101 Ways to Wake Dr Daniel Jackson
by JayBee-Bug
Summary: Daniel’s a late sleeper. And shares a tent off world with a certain Colonel. The results are inevitably troublesome. JDslash
1. The Leap

**Title:** 101 Ways to Wake Dr. Daniel Jackson

**Author:** JayBee-Bug

**Rating:** PG-13

**Timeline/Spoilers:** Let's say early season and leave it at that, it's not too important.

**Summary: **Daniel's a late sleeper. And shares a tent offworld with a certain Colonel. The results are inevitably troublesome.

**A/N:** This story is now complete. I posted it originally as a WIP and asked my readers to suggest unique ways to wake Dr. Jackson in their reviews. I got wonderful responses and incorporated some of the ideas into the story. Thanks to everyone who participated and reviewed!

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_The Leap_

His pillow smelled like dirt and hay, and it reminded him of the hayhouse for the horses he visited once when he had visited his grandparent's house as a boy. He had loved it there for some reason, the private little building built especially for the storage of horse feed. Somehow he felt more safe and comfortable there among the tall bales of tied hay and the barrels of dry feed then he did anywhere else at that point in his life.

Daniel smiled in his sleep, nose mooshed not-so-gracefully against his pillow.

"Aaaw," Jack murmured, as he loomed over his current bunkmate.

Whispering, he commented,

"Will you look at that. He must be having a good dream."

Hardly more than a bit of blond hair poking out of the twisted, messed-up sleeping bag was visible of his dozing companion. Daniel shifted a little and sunk deeper into his pillow with a tiny sigh.

"So damn innocent when he's sleeping. He looks angelic," Jack murmured sappily. An evil grin spread across his still-yet-to-be-shaved features.

"Entirely unaware of the misfortune about to befall him . . ."

Shifting so he slid all the way out of his own sleeping bag, Jack got on his hands and knees and leaned in way close to Daniel, leering over him like a cat cornering a canary.

"Sweet little Danny-boy," he murmured gently in his ear in a sing-song tone. Daniel shifted a little, and gave a sleep-mumble, but didn't wake. Jack continued in his gentle purr,

"Danny . . . it's time to wake up . . ."

Daniel sniffled, but beyond that, did not stir. Jack got that grin again.

"Well. Now he can't say I didn't try to wake him the easy way," he concluded in a normal voice. And proceeded to jump on top of Daniel like he was tackling a quarterback. The younger man gave a sudden "_Oooof!"_ as the two-hundred-something-pound Colonel pounced on him. His eyes snapped open and he literally saw stars, red and purple lights spinning and twisting in front of him, and he realized he wasn't breathing. Jack had completely winded him.

Just barely recognizing the lunatic on top of him as his bunkmate, Daniel swore internally that he'd scream his head off at Jack the moment he got his breath back.


	2. The Challenge

_The Challenge_

"Hey, Daniel. I got dinner all heated up."

Daniel accepted the offered pouch and went over to sit down on one of the fold-out chairs around the campfire. Sam was crouched by the fire, poking around in the hanging pot of boiling water, trying to fish out the rest of the pouches.

"What'd you say it was this time?" Daniel wondered, sniffing the bag suspiciously as he opened it.

"Um. Beef? Yeah. Beef."

"Beef _what?"_

Carter shrugged,

"I dunno, whatever you want. Use your imagination."

Daniel sighed, poking into the bag unenthusiastically with his plastic spoon.

"I swear, Sam, I don't see how you get used to this stuff."

Finally succeeding in retrieving the rest of the MREs from the pot, she smiled up at him.

"Who said I'm used to them?"

A loud voice suddenly echoed over their campsite,

"_Heeey_, is that my four-course dinner I smell?"

There was much crunching and snapping as Jack and Teal'c tromped their way out of the brushy undergrowth of the surrounding woods.

"Yes, it _is!_ Smells good, Carter! Smells like . . ."

He took a few testing breaths,

"Beef stew, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls and maybe some peas. Oh, and don't forget that applesauce for dessert."

"Welcome back," Sam answered wryly, as the pair of them came to sit down on the other chairs. Teal'c announced,

"We have completed our perimeter check and have found no evidence for habitation."

Carter handed over a pouch to her CO and commented to Daniel,

"See, that's what I meant. You need to use your imagination for them."

Daniel just made a wry face as he ate from his pack, and Jack warbled on,

"Thank-you-very-much, Carter, looks wonderful, as usual. I don't know what we'd do without your culinary skills. Yeah, Teal'c and I didn't find squat. Right, Teal'c?"

The Jaffa eyed the Colonel as Sam handed him his MRE,

"I believe that is exactly what I just stated, O'Neill."

"Right. I just wanted you to say 'right'. It's a simple--"

"Right." Teal'c stated seriously.

Jack nodded,

"Ok, good. We're in agreement then."

"Indeed."

"Ok then."

Jack looked back to Carter and Daniel, who were watching the exchange in silence.

"What?"

Sam shook her head and opened her own packet,

"Nothing. So if everything checks out good, are we on for hiking into the canyon tomorrow?"

The Colonel answered as he dug into his food,

"Yep. Nice long walk out to Grand Alien Canyon . . . lots of fun sample-collecting in the sun. I can tell this mission's gonna be such a blast."

"This food does not appear to taste of the animal it was created from," Teal'c observed, sounding slightly concerned. Jack looked over to him and sighed. Daniel backed him up,

"See? Thank-you, Teal'c. I'm not the only one who thinks it's old."

The Colonel pointed his spoon at Daniel,

"You wanna trade? Cos mine's great, think I just got to the dinner rolls--"

"No, that's ok," Daniel mumbled in sarcasm. Jack just shrugged and continued to inhale his food, pretending it was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"Do you think a watch out will be necessary tonight, sir?"

"Mm-hmph."

"What?"

Jack took a long swill from his canteen and then repeated,

"Yeah. Everything seems clear from the UAV and our sweeps, but I'd like to keep an eye out for just one more night."

He shot a gaze out into the towering alien trees.

"You know, just to be on the safe side. Too many trees here. Things are always popping out from the trees."

Sam smiled,

"I can do first watch, then. I'd like to finish going over the images the UAV snapped. There's several possible openings into the canyon, I'm hoping we come across the richest deposits on our first try."

Jack nodded in acknowledgment.

"O'Neill, you wished me to remind you to change the position of the tents."

"Ah! Yes, we need to do that. Somehow we managed to get them down on a rocky spot for the second time. I feel like I'm sleeping on a bed of nails."

"Ours is all right," Sam commented, looking over at the pitched tents. Jack shook his head.

"We have to shift them a good four feet to the right, it's perfect over there. There's just too many damn rocks around here, and these sharp little pinecone-things."

Daniel had been half-listening to the dinner-time chatter, but now he interrupted the conversation.

"Since we're moving stuff around, it shouldn't be too much trouble for me to switch tents."

"Switch to where, Daniel?"

"Oh, here we go again," Jack said in a warning tone. Sam looked from him to Daniel with a confused expression.

"To your tent, I can swap with Teal'c. Is that all right with you, Teal'c?" Daniel asked politely in the Jaffa's direction. He nodded.

"It is, DanielJackson."

"Thank you, Teal'c."

"But what for?"

Daniel didn't answer, his gaze just stopped on Jack. The Colonel looked partially annoyed and partially amused.

"He wants to get away from me," Jack answered for him, annoyed glare locked with Daniel's gaze.

"I don't know if you might have heard me yelling this morning, Sam--"

"Daniel, the nice folks back at the SGC heard you yelling this morning--"

"But Jack and I have had some . . . disputes lately over our sleeping arrangements--"

"It's not my fault your sense of humor died who knows how long ago--"

"It's not _funny_, Jack! It wasn't a joke, it was a-a, it was an attack! You--"

"It's a _prank. _And I was being practical, too."

"You _jumped_ on me!"

Jack threw his hands up.

"Exactly! There's little else that gets you up in the morning!"

Daniel sighed patiently and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You winded me, Jack."

"Ok, look, I already told you I didn't mean to do that this time."

They fell quiet a moment. Daniel still looked pretty peeved.

"I _said _I was sorry about that! Jeez. You act like I shot you or something."

Daniel looked over to Sam, who had been watching their argument attentively.

"You see what I mean?"

Sam looked to her CO and commented,

"I'm glad I'm not a late sleeper."

Jack grinned at her and Daniel sunk back into his chair with a world-weary sigh, eyes cast skywards.

"You don't have to move, Daniel. I won't wind you next time. I'll be careful."

Daniel let his eyes slip shut and he answered the Colonel in a low, tired mumble.

"It's not so much the winding that bothers me Jack. It's just you've done it the same way for the past ten mornings off-world. It's starting to lose its humor value."

Sam shot him an accusing look.

"Wait a minute. Colonel, is he serious? You've been jumping on him for that long?"

"I wouldn't call it jumping. More like enthusiastically shaking."

"It was jumping, Jack."

The Colonel shook his head.

"It just felt like jumping to you. All I do is give you a little friendly shake."

Daniel opened his eyes.

"Shaking involves the arms. Not the entire body. On top of me."

"Ok, all right, fine, but it's a _friendly_ jump."

There were a few muffled sounds from Sam, as she covered her mouth and gave a cough suspiciously near a laugh. Daniel was still gazing up at the sky, which was fading into a dark navy blue as daylight faded on the alien world.

"I know it's friendly, Jack, but it's leaving friendly bruises on me."

The Colonel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, possibly looking guilty for the first time.

"Ah, it is? You sure those weren't from-- Jaffa fights or whatever?"

"Why don't you just-- lay off on the jumping for a while. I'm getting tired of waking up the same way every morning."

Jack's eyes lit up, and he sat up a little in his seat. A slow smile spread across his face. Daniel started getting worried when he didn't hear a reply.

"Jack?"

He turned from the sky to look at the Colonel. He didn't like the look on his face at all. Oh, no.

"What's that? What are you thinking?"

His smile only increased to evil proportions.

"Jack!"

"Don't you worry, Danny," he replied in a none-too-assuring tone,

"I promise I won't jump on you again for the next few months. Barring any tactical maneuvers."

Daniel frowned thoughtfully.

"You'd think I'd find that comforting, but I don't."

"You just need a little variety, Daniel. I understand. Variety is the spice of life, and what have you."

"Variety?" Daniel echoed, looking quite worried now.

"Yeah. I won't bore you with the same old clichéd prank anymore, Daniel. From now on, you'll be able to appreciate my novelty and creativity."

"What are you going to do, sir?"

He nodded to his 2IC.

"Carter? I'll need you to take notes for the next few months. For a very important experiment of mine. And I'm going to call it . . . One-Hundred-and-One Ways to Wake Dr. Daniel Jackson."

Daniel gave a woeful moan and dropped his head in his hands. Sam exchanged a look with Teal'c. Jack clapped Daniel's back.

"Don't look so down, Daniel. What's the worst I can do?"


	3. Way 6 The Drowning

_Way # 6 -- The Drowning_

Everything feels so open in the desert. The land is utterly flat and exposed. When the winds come, they don't need to do much to kick up massive sand-storms. When the sun shines, there's nothing to take the edge off, and all the world becomes a dusty furnace. When the stars appear, the sky feels so close that it seems you could touch it just by reaching out a little.

Daniel had loved this about Abydos. Everything was so shamelessly exposed and honest. It had a comfortable feeling of being genuine.

When the rains come, there's nowhere to hide. All the world becomes a torrent, the sands turn to a twisting sea. The floodgates are opened, and every parched nook and cranny is rushed.

Daniel woke up coughing. It probably had to do with the large quantities of water he had been inhaling in his sleep. Spluttering, he waved his hands about blindly, trying to fight off the freezing water Jack was liberally pouring over his face.

"Wh--huh--_coughcough_--J-jack?_ cough_--ppft, what's--"

He managed to get his glasses on, and blinked up confusedly at the man standing over him.

"Jeez, Daniel. You breathed in about a quart of that stuff before you finally woke up. Not good survival instincts," Jack observed. Daniel was wiping his face, noticing his pillow was soaked straight through, and was lying in a pool of water puddled at the bottom of the tent.

"Jack? What are you_ doing? _I--" Daniel stopped to cough some more.

"Carter found a river just twenty paces from here. There might even be some fish in it. I was thinking of going back and getting my gear."

Sitting up, the archeologist finally appeared to be awake.

"So you dumped half the river on my head?"

Jack took a sip from the canteen he had been pouring on Daniel.

"Don't worry, we purified the water before using it. No Goa'ulds or anything in it."

Daniel let out a sigh, and looked across the tent, vision still a bit blurred from water.

"You weren't kidding about this waking-me-up-marathon, were you?"

"What tipped you off?" Jack deadpanned, screwing the lid back on the canteen.

"Well, this is the third time I've nearly suffocated due to your creative efforts."

Jack hooked the canteen to his belt and smirked down at him.

"You know I'd never let you actually suffocate."

"Yeah, well, I'm starting to wonder now," Daniel muttered, more to himself than Jack. He unzipped his bag and gave his sopping pillow a disgusted glance.

"It's going to take days for this to dry out, you know."

"No it won't."

"Yes, I think it will."

"Quit whining. I'll let you borrow mine."

Daniel had taken the hand offered to him and allowed the man to help pull him to his feet. He frowned thoughtfully as he looked into Jack's face, for some reason finding memories of his dream suddenly returning.

"What are you going to use, then?"

Shrug. "I can live for a night without it. I've slept on worse."

Daniel didn't respond, just continued to look thoughtfully at him.

"Daniel? You awake in there?"

He blinked,

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, just-- trying to remember what I was dreaming."

Jack nodded in understanding.

"Anything good?"

Daniel squinted from behind his glasses, deciding he was suffering from coffee-deprived delirium. He saw Jack's familiar face and felt it was akin to his desert terrain, unshaved stubble the stretches of sand, mussed silver-grey hair the stars almost within reach, the eloquent crescent moons hanging double in the sky.

He gave his head a little shake, trying to clear his mind.

"Ah, yeah, I think so."

"Cool. Here, take this. We're leaving in fifteen. Breakfast's on the table."

And then he left the tent, leaving Daniel with a full canteen in his hands, looking down at his sleeping-bag, still trying to clear his head.


	4. Way 9 The Entombment

_Way #9 -- The Entombment_

There were birds on this planet, lots of them. The entire sky seemed to break out into an uncoordinated chorus as soon as the tiny sun peeked over the horizon. It brought Daniel slightly awake, but then he remembered they didn't have anywhere to be until 900 hours, and he could just roll over and go back to sleep. He did so, sighing into his warm sleeping-bag, feeling like he was in a cocoon he felt fit to remain in for a good while longer. The chatter of bird-song outside slowly garbled into background noise as he drifted back to sleep.

"Daniel."

When he woke again, somebody was poking him in the side, repeating his name in a slightly annoyed tone.

"Wake up already."

He opened his eyes to see the blurred checkered pattern on the inside of his sleeping-bag.

"Jack?"

"The one and only."

He felt inclined to settle back down and just ignore the Colonel, and started to do just that, but a thought struck him.

"Wait, you're just going to poke me awake? What happened to creative?"

He didn't get an answer and assumed he wasn't heard. He raised his head to look at him, getting the funny feeling the Colonel was standing threateningly over him with a water canteen or some dangerous object. But it seemed he had twisted his bag around, because he couldn't find the opening. He fumbled a bit with his hands for the flap.

"Jack, you better not be standing there with something."

"Relax, Daniel. You're paranoid. I'm just laying here."

It did sound like he was just next to him in his own bag. The Colonel carried on in his slightly annoyed tone,

"Would you hurry it up? We need to take off in a half-hour."

"I know-- I'm awake. You don't need to--"

Daniel stopped short and made a frustrated sound, unable to find the opening for his bag. He ran his hands searchingly along the edges once again, wondering why he always managed to mess his bag up to the point he trapped himself.

"Having trouble, Daniel?"

"I'm fine. Go ahead without me. I'll be there in a minute."

What the Hell? He had traced all the way to the bottom of his bag, and that side was closed too. Hurriedly he turned around inside the insulated bag and climbed back towards the top end, or at least what he _thought_ was the top end, and tugged at it more forcefully.

"You sure? Looks to me like you might need a little help there."

He stopped, realization finally dawning. Damnit.

"Very funny, Jack."

"Well that's what I'm finding it, anyway. You happen to remember that cliché about people with a poor sense of direction?"

Daniel sighed and went slack, giving up on his fruitless search of the open flap.

"You can't find your way out of a paper-bag," Daniel recited, hearing Jack's amused chuckle from outside the sleeping-bag.

"_That_ one. Exactly."

"Would you please unzip my sleeping-bag now, Jack?"

"What makes you think I did anything?" he replied innocently.

God, he was sure the Colonel could keep a conversation like this going for hours, if he wanted to. Daniel shifted in the bag, which was getting a little hot from all his struggles, feeling a little suffocated. Yet again. He frowned at the dark checkered pattern.

"Jack, you're going to kill me in here."

"Don't give me that claustrophobic bull. I know you archeologist types live for cramming yourself in itty bitty crannies for hours on end to study whatever."

"I'm _not_ claustrophobic. But I _do_ have to breathe."

He felt Jack patting his head from outside the bag,

"No worries. 100 breathable cotton."

Daniel had been picking at the zipper-track along the sides of his Army-issue bag in irritation.

"Who the heck designed these things to only have a zipper on the outside?"

"Brilliant military minds?" Jack answered in heavy-handed sarcasm.

"Ah. Of course."


	5. Way 15 The Relocation

_Way #15 -- The Relocation_

Daniel woke up with a start, but realized the noise that startled him was only the wind in the trees outside. He cast a wary gaze about his tent, and reached for his glasses. Checking his watch-- 7:24-- he wondered where his bunkmate had crept off to. The last few morning-stunts Jack had pulled had been pretty elaborate, and Daniel was starting to develop a paranoia. A very well-founded one, of course. Once Jack got something new in his head to entertain himself with, it wasn't likely anyone could persuade him away from it. For a man with a habitually short attention span, he sure could focus when he wanted to.

Daniel wriggled out of his bag and got up slowly, carefully scanning the ground. This particular planet was home to an abnormal number of insects, and yesterday Jack had been hinting at a plan to set them lose in the tent. Fortunately, Daniel couldn't spot anything crawling in the dimly lit space. He shuffled around a bit, going over the whole tent just for the sake of his peace of mind. Then he settled down again to go back to sleep.

But for some reason he couldn't. He laid there for a little while, gazing up at the plastic roof of the tent, which undulated in the breeze at him. He had a weird feeling something was off. About ten minutes later he gave up trying to sleep, and decided he'd just start the fire up for breakfast. He dressed and grabbed his boots, unzipped the tent, stuck his head out into the chilly morning air, and stopped.

"Uhm . . ."

Inhabiting the clearing just outside for the campfire and the other tent was, instead, a very large bush. Daniel pulled his shoes on hastily and crept outside, head ducked low, looking around cautiously.

Trees were packed densely around him on all sides. They were unfamiliar. He clearly was in the heavier part of the planet's forest, with the other tent nowhere in sight. They did _not_ pitch here last night.

Walking around the area slowly, he noted there was nothing else here but his tent, no equipment, not even footprints. Lots of trees and bushes and some bugs. Barely enough space for his tent as it was between two trees.

He frowned and went back over to his tent, leaning down and examining the stakes that anchored it to the ground. How on P49-K1L did Jack . . . ? Wouldn't there be drag-marks, or . . . _something? _And surely he would have woken up? Admittedly Daniel was a heavy sleeper but that was ridiculous.

Sighing, he ventured out a bit farther, hoping it wouldn't take long to catch sight of where the real camp was. It couldn't have been far. Line-of-sight in the trees, however, was seriously depleted, and it didn't matter if Daniel was twenty miles away from camp or twenty paces, it all looked the same to him. Sighing in irritation he returned to his tent, not wanting to wander too far and lose track of it all together.

Sitting with his legs sticking out the tent-flap, Daniel pondered his options.

"Brilliant military minds," he grumbled sarcastically, as he mentally went over the supplies he had in his tent. His backpack was in here, with its emergency rations and water, and most of the junk he had brought with him. His sleeping bag. Clothes. Jack's sleeping bag. Pillows. He was going to have to pack all this up and trek out of here, wasn't he?

Daniel jumped a little, and jerked to look to his right, but it was the slapping-sound of the trees again. He added testily,

"Oh, so brilliant."

Wasn't this somewhat endangering to his welfare? He really was alone out here, probably in the middle of nowhere on an alien planet. Sam and Teal'c might not even _know_-- didn't Jack care about the possible dangers? Some Jaffa could suddenly arrive, some unknown animal could try to eat him, he could get . . . covered in bugs or something . . .

Daniel yelped and jumped to his feet when a crackling sound came from right behind him, followed by a scratchy, loud voice.

"_Dan_-yol! You just gonna sit around all morning or what?"

Glaring at the radio attached to his pack, he grit his teeth. Ok, why didn't he think of that sooner?

The slightly staticy voice came again,

"Hellooo? Knock-knock, Danny."

"I'm telling Sam about this, I hope you realize. I'm sure this goes against the rules somehow," Daniel announced tersely into the walkie.

"Oh, Daniel. I'm sure half of what we do everyday goes against the rules."

"Half of what _you_ do, anyway."

"Touché."

"Jack, did it ever occur to you that this might be dangerous to me? To be left out here like this?"

A pause, and then,

"I told you this already, Daniel. I promised none of what I did would ever be stupid enough to risk you."

"I know that's what you _said _. . ."

"You don't believe me?"

He chewed his lip in thought.

"I do. But your definition of danger and mine might be slightly different."

"Ah, the linguist's mind at work," Jack's voice mused.

"The mind that's also telling me you had to have had help on this," Daniel commented.

"May-bee . . ."

"How'd you talk Teal'c in? I can't imagine Sam going along with this."

"You'd be surprised the sort of criminal mind Carter keeps hidden behind that sweet facade," the Colonel's voice came amusedly,

"But, ah, I'd never reveal my accomplices."

"Jack."

"Daniel?"

"Could you maybe get me out of here now?"

Some laughter, and then Jack replied,

"You really think I left you in the middle of nowhere?"

Daniel took a glance about the trees around him.

"I was considering the possibility, yes."

"Maybe I should tone it down next time," Jack said. Daniel looked up, a bit startled. The Colonel stood a few feet away, walkie in hand.

"Hi," Jack greeted. Daniel sighed and answered,

"I wouldn't be against toning it down."

Jack gestured to behind him.

"C'mon, let's get you your coffee. Camp's about twenty feet to the left."

Daniel looked to the area he had gestured to in surprise and frowned.

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. Carter and Teal'c and probably having a good time listening in."

Daniel clicked on his walkie and said quite seriously,

"I'm considering this an act of traitorism."


	6. Way 28 The Theft

_Way #28 -- The Theft_

"Daniel, it's 8300. You better get up."

Daniel blinked awake, Sam's blonde head poking into his tent.

"Oh--uh--ok--"

"We leave in a bit," she said and disappeared. Daniel mumbled and kicked out of his sleeping-bag, located his pants, and performed the famous one-foot hop as he wriggled them on. Buttoned them up, reached for his glasses, and sighed in irritation.

"I'll be drinking the last of the coffee if you don't mind, Danny," Jack called from outside. Daniel turned and shouted over his shoulder,

"You do and you're a dead man, _Colonel._"

He searched his pack, which he always kept right next to his sleeping-bag on the left side of his pillow. He usually set his glasses down on top of his pack at night, slipping them into the stretchy exterior-pocket, but they must've slipped off and fallen somewhere. He prodded the floor of the tent for them quickly, not wanting to let Jack follow through on his threats.

"Mmm, Caribbean French Roast. Oh! There goes the last little bit," Jack's obnoxious taunts carried on. Daniel could hear Teal'c low, rumbling voice as he said something outside, and Jack talking back to him. The archeologist growled and zipped open his pack, dumping out the contents, rifling around in frustration. He knew he put them right here, damnit, where the heck--

"He wouldn't," Daniel stopped and muttered. No, he was sure he wouldn't have done that. All those other things, he could see Jack doing, but there were certain lines you simply couldn't cross. And it was . . . it was just so _juvenile. . . _

Daniel glared at the tent flap and knew in that moment that he had.

"I tell ya, nothing like Army-issue caffeine to start my day on an alien planet, eh, Carter?"

Daniel had dressed hastily and immerged through the tent with an angry _whhhup_ of the tent flap. Shirt thrown on hastily, hair still a tangled mess, face set in a scowl, he did not look pleased. Sam swallowed, surprised at how intimidating her normally sweet, benign scientist friend could appear when he wanted to. She glanced to the Colonel, perched on a chair near her, but he didn't look worried at all.

"Good-morning, sunshine," Jack purred, which was the manner in which he had greeted Daniel the last several mornings. Carter and Teal'c exchanged anticipating looks.

"Good-morning, dumbass," Daniel snarled in return as he and his sloppily tied boots stomped up to the campfire. Jack's brows shot up in surprise, as did Carter's. Wow, Jack had made Daniel curse. Maybe he should start reconsidering this whole scheme.

Daniel halted and crossed his arms over his chest, leveling a dirty look in Jack's general direction. It really would have been quite an effective and scary glare, if it wasn't for the fact that the general disarrayed state of his clothing and hair, wrinkly sleep-lines still pressed on his face, and the way his bottom lip sort of stuck out into a pout, made the image more amusing and adorable than terrifying.

"Where are they?" he demanded.

"Where are . . . what?" Jack asked, sipping his black coffee.

"_You know._"

"I do?"

"_Yes."_

"Ok."

Pause.

_"Well?"_

"Well what?"

"_Where are my glasses?"_

Some snickering from Jack, and some that sounded suspiciously like Carter's.

"Jack, that isn't funny. You know I can't see more than a foot in front of me without them."

"C'mon, that's sort of exaggerating, don't you think?"

"_Not by much!"_

"Ok, look, I was careful, Daniel, relax. I put them in a safe place."

"I don't care. That's crossing a line, Jack. You don't mess with a man's glasses."

Jack hesitated and slumped his shoulders a little, looking genuinely chastised.

"Ok, you're right, sorry. I didn't think you'd take it like that. Come over here."

Daniel looked wary. It was unusual for Jack to actually admit defeat like that and apologize. He came forward cautiously.

"I, uh, was kidding about the coffee too. There's still plenty left."

Daniel blinked down at Jack, at first confused, as if he wasn't sure whether he was hallucinating. The Colonel looked up at him, mug of coffee in hand, with Daniel's glasses perched on his face. He looked . . . like. . . Daniel couldn't even articulate it.

"You're _wearing_ them?" he asked in disbelief. Sam giggled. Jack smiled slowly, and the expression is what undid him; Daniel couldn't quite suppress the smile trying to win out on his own face.

"J-Jack, you look like . . ."

"Like what?" he asked eagerly. He was grinning now.

"Like . . . a complete and utter dork."

The two of them sniggered. Daniel leaned against Jack's chair, fighting for composure.

"Get the man some coffee, Carter."

"Yessir."

She passed it around and Jack handed him the mug.

"They're a heavy prescription. It must be intolerable for you to wear those," Daniel pointed out, burying his face in the mug to squelch his amusement,

"Oh yeah. Thought I was going to get seasick. I'm starting to get used to it now," Jack agreed, waving a hand in front of his face.

"It's _trippin'."_ Daniel shook his head.

"In fact I think they're startin' to geek-afy me."

"Mm-hm," Daniel murmured skeptically.

"It's the source of all your powers! Carter, ask me a question."

"Um. Describe the principles of String Theory."

Jack spread his arms wide, in melodramatic pose,

"Everything in the entire universe is actually made up of little tiny _strings_, like dental floss, and that's what ties it all together."

Carter raised her brows in surprise.

"That's actually sort of right, Daniel."

Jack pointed at him and yelled, "See? I told you!"

"I think you better give me those back now."

"No! I'm not ready to surrender my newfound knowledge of the universe!"

He jerked as Daniel reached for the glasses, his coffee spilling and landing on the leaf-littered ground,

"Gack! No-- no, I haven't had a chance to speak other languages yet!" Daniel had one hand on Jack's temple, Jack clutching Daniel's wrist, while trying to keep his mug level in the other hand. Daniel held his mug in midair over Jack's lap and held it slightly tilted, in a very threatening manner. Jack watched it nervously and swallowed, frozen on the spot.

"Speak," Daniel commanded. Jack opened his mouth,

"Hijo de puta."

Daniel gave him a surprised look.

"Well, that isn't very nice."

"Among the few words I know in a foreign tongue."

Daniel slid the lenses off his face and replaced them on his own, smirking.

"At least it's good to know you can antagonize people in just about any language you'd like."

Jack smiled, "Hey, that's all I really need."


	7. Way 32 Idle Hands

_Way #32 -- Idle Hands_

"I don't care if you're bored! The simple fact is that I'm _very busy_, sir! And--_hey. _I saw that."

"Saw what?"

Jack gave her a perfectly innocent look.

"Put it back, Colonel. You know I need all of those."

Jack frowned and gazed at the array of strange gadgets spread across Carter's work desk.

"Do I really know that? Considering I have no idea what it is you're actually doing. . ."

"_Down."_ Carter commanded, with a finger pointed to her desk. He dropped the small metal bolt back on the table.

"Thank you."

She immediately returned to whatever it was she was doing, scribbling away in a notebook. Jack watched her messy desk forlornly for a couple minutes, his hands clasped behind his back, knowing she'd see any further attempts to pick things up out of the corner of her eye. He shuffled behind her a little and peered over her shoulder in a stealthy manner, straining to make out her handwriting. A few minutes later Carter gave a weary sigh and held a hand to her temple.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, sir?"

"Uh. Yeah. Why do you think I'm here instead?"

She gave him a sideways look.

"Paperwork due?" she asked in a sympathetic tone.

"Overdue. Long overdue," he gave a brief nod.

"Mm. You really should consider improving your procrastination habits, sir. It only makes things twice as worse."

"Aah," he said, waving it off. "I've been meaning to. Just never got around to it."

Sam rolled her eyes and continued taking her notes.

_Fifteen Minutes Later. . . _

There was a crash, a bang, and some alarmed scientists shouting. Jack snuck out of Carter's lab quickly, deciding it would be wise for him to become scarce at that particular moment, whistling an innocent tune. He headed down the corridors to his _other_ favorite scientist to annoy. Hopefully he wouldn't be as busy as Carter was. She was just no fun sometimes, such a workaholic. . .

Pushing the door open, Jack sang,

"Oh, Danny?"

Nobody answered and he came into the room, glancing about curiously, as it was oddly quiet in here.

"Daniel? You alive?"

Jack's gaze finally fell upon Daniel's desk, and the pieces fell into place.

"_Ah. _Great. There goes plan B for procrastination."

Dr. Jackson was in his chair, face-down on his desk and dead asleep next to the piles of files and books. His glasses hung askew on his face. Jack came forward a little.

"Poor guy. Just doesn't know when to quit, does he?"

He plucked the glasses off his sleeping friend's face, folded them up and put them down on the desk next to him. He poked around the files and books for a few moments to check out what Daniel had been doing. Ah. It was all Greek to him. Literally-- most of the books were on Greek. Or written in Greek, it appeared. Hm. He picked up a capped ball-point pen and stuck it between his teeth. Pretty dull project, it looked like.

Jack plopped down in a rolling chair next to Daniel's desk, and slowly spun the chair in a circle with his foot.

"Maybe you got the right idea, huh? Being unconscious is a pretty good excuse to not do anything."

Jack amused himself for a few minutes spinning his chair in circles, and stopping to watch the walls spin from the leftover dizziness. Then he scootched the chair closer to the desk and started poking through Daniel's drawers. Not much to look at. Stapler, thumb-tacks, paperclips, scraps of paper, a Phillips screw-driver, some loose change, some sort of rock, a Goa'uld information device, a yellow pencil. . . mm. Jack slid the drawer shut.

Chewing on the cap-end of the pen, Jack regarded the sleeping Daniel next to him.

"I gotta say, Danny, you're not doing much to help me out here."

The anthropologist was dead asleep, head pillowed in his folded hands, mouth slightly agape, blond hair ruffled from a long day's work. There was no way Jack would get a response out of him.

"Daniel. Hey. _Hey."_ Jack snapped his fingers a few times in front of him.

"Yoo-hoo, Danny-boy," he said, waving a hand in the air above him. Jack smirked. Yep. He was totally out of it. That boy could probably sleep through an earthquake.

Jack gave a sad sigh, tapping the pen against his teeth.

"Looks like I'll have to go back to work if I can't think of somethin' else to do here."

He pondered this a moment, thoughtfully nibbling the pen-tip. A thought struck the man and he smiled a little. Slowly he took the pen from his mouth and gazed at it. Then his gaze fell upon the dozing archeologist.

The innocent, defenseless archeologist.

Jack gave an evil little cackle as he uncapped the pen and scootched a tad closer to his sleeping friend.

_An Unknown Block of Time Later . . . _

Daniel's neck was sore. That was the first thing he became conscious of.

His eye twitched and he winced, wondering why his neck hurt so much. His breathing was a little wheezy and difficult, too. For a moment, he wondered if perhaps he was waking up at the bottom of some Goa'uld cell after being hit with a zat-gun. That had happened to him _far_ too many times than he preferred.

But then he woke up a little more and recognized the gentle tick-tock of the clock on the wall, and remembered where he was. SGC, his office. Unless the Goa'uld had installed analog clocks in their cells, of course.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the blurry image of his desk. His face was mashed into some papers, quite literally, and one of his nostrils was flattened into the desk, explaining the trouble with breathing. He inhaled a deep breath and leaned up in his chair, blinking. A couple pieces of paper remained stuck to the side of his face, glued there firmly from a little dried drool. He groaned a little and peeled them off.

Putting the pages back on the desk and finding his glasses, he put them back on and glanced around the room. He did a double-take on the fluffy grey object in the corner of his eyes, which turned out to be Jack's ducked head. The man was leaned over in concentration, in a chair near Daniel.

"Uhn. Jack," Daniel muttered, still a little woozy from his nap. The man replied but didn't look up.

"Hey Dan."

"What time issit?" Daniel slurred, trying to turn to see the wall clock, but unable to get his sore neck to go the right angle.

"Mm. 'Round 300."

"Oh." Daniel peered down at Jack. The Colonel had a black pen and was slowly sketching something.

"What'reyou doing?"

"Drawing."

"Oh." Daniel reached up and massaged his temples, then his neck.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not sure. It's been about an hour since I came in."

Daniel grumbled. "Great. I knew this whole switching-to-decaf thing would never work . . ."

Daniel paused as he took his hand away from his neck, seeing something funny out of the corner of his eye, and stared at his hand. It was covered in black ink doodles. His eye followed them all the way down his arm, and to his other arm where Jack was leaning. The Colonel was busy sketching something on Daniel's bicep.

"Uh . . . _Jack?"_

"Yeah?"

"Are you drawing on me?"

"Yep."

Daniel stared, a little puzzled.

"Why?"

"You know what they say about idle hands, Daniel."

Daniel thought a moment and replied, "Are the Devil's workshop?"

"I was bored," Jack supplied.

Daniel frowned.

"And you were asleep," Jack added.

"I thought this waking-up craziness of yours only extended to off-world occasions."

"I never actually made that specification," Jack explained.

"Ah. I see."

Daniel watched him drawing for a little bit.

"Does this mean I should be concerned about nighttime visitations at my apartment?"

"I wouldn't rule it out if I were you."

"Jack."

"Hm?"

"Can I have my arm back now?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

Jack let go and Daniel leaned up in his chair, gazing down at his arms. Doodles wandered from his fingertips to his biceps, and possibly higher, crowding his skin in all sorts of detail, like some freak had gone insane with a tattoo needle.

"You like?" Jack asked cheerfully.

"Um . . ." He examined them more closely. Something about the cartoon-style Goa'ulds was very disturbing. Trying to make them look cutesy somehow only made them more scary looking. Smiley-faces and random phrases ("Jack was here", "Spacemonkey", "Geeks R Us") speckled him along with lumpy looking animals and flowers, and other totally random junk. Jack had traced around Daniel's pulse-point on one arm, drawn an arrow pointing to it, and labeled it "Caffeine IV Drip Inserts Here".

Daniel looked up at Jack and said evenly,

"I think I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Aaaw. Don't you want to show em' off for a while first? You've got more tattoos than a drunken sailor."

"Not particularly."

The two of them glanced up as they heard a voice.

"Daniel, I didn't hear back from you, I was wondering if you got those files sent up--"

Carter stopped talking as she came around the bend and into the office.

"--to me. Uh. Colonel." Sam blinked, looking from Jack to Daniel and back to Jack again.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to interrupt anything. Uh. What exactly . . ."

She looked at Daniel again, who wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"_Is_ that?" She nodded in Daniel's direction. Then she added on.

"I mean . . . the . . ."

"Skin art?" Daniel supplied.

"Er. Yeah," Sam smiled.

"Don't ask me. I didn't do it," Daniel answered. They both looked at Jack. The older man smiled indulgently at the pair of them.

"Sometimes, guys, I just _have to draw_. There's no use fighting it."

"So you used Daniel as your sketchbook?" Sam asked, in an almost curious voice, looking back at Daniel to further examine the work.

Jack corrected her, almost sounding hurt,

"Not sketchbook. _Canvas_."

Sam smirked and came closer, staring at Daniel, or rather, Daniel's skin. Daniel gave her a very concerned look as she stared.

"Why are you looking at my nose like that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just wanted to see. Sorry."

Daniel narrowed his eyes and shot Jack an accusing look.

"You drew on my _face?_"

Jack winced. "Er. That was a surprise for later."

Daniel leaned way back in his chair and gave an exasperated sigh.

"_Great_. I fall asleep on my desk for an hour and you manage to completely coat every square inch of exposed skin with Bic art. Did you draw on my ankles, too? Where the heck else should I check?"

Jack glanced quickly towards the opposite side of the room, lips twitching, as he tried to hold a neutral expression. Daniel leaned forward again in his chair and Jack's eyes snapped back to his, but not quite fast enough for Daniel to miss the look.

"What." He glanced to Sam for a clue-- she mirrored Jack's muffled expression.

"_What?_ That was _supposed_ to be sarcasm! Jack!"

"I didn't do anything," Jack responded automatically, and then amended,

"Uh. I mean, what're you talking about?"

"You know what! Where else did you draw?!"

"I didn't! I swear! That's it!"

"Sam!"

"Hey! I had nothing to do with this, Daniel, don't look at me."

Sam backed up a little.

"In fact I think I'm gonna leave you two to work this out. I don't need those files that badly, uh, I can send somebody over for them later--"

"Jack, do you _swear?_ There's absolutely nowhere else."

"I do! I swear. That's all."

Daniel stared at him, but Jack didn't waver from his statement.

"All right. Fine. I'm going to shower now."

"Need any help?" Jack offered congenially.

"I think I'll be fine, thanks."

Daniel left. When the door of his office clicked shut, Jack let a sneaky smirk appear on his face, and whistled an innocent tune.


	8. Way 42 The Pole

_Way # 42 -- The Pole_

The man had been up since 6:00 hours that morning, with barely contained glee. Over by the campfire, warming up the MREs, Carter watched in curiosity. Jack had been tediously measuring the distance from his tent flap and had a chair set up a specific distance from the tent. Then he had slowly, silently zipped the flap open and fashioned it so that it stayed open with a clothespin. Now he was standing by his chair, examining an object that looked like . . . a long wooden dowel. A couple inches thick. And very long.

"Colonel?" Carter finally asked, causing him to look over in alarm and immediately shush her. She dropped silent and slouched in her seat a little, automatically alarmed by her CO's apparent distress. He crept over to her carefully, dowel in hand.

"Are you _trying _to demolish my well-laid plans, Major?" he whispered, expression irritated.

"Sir, with all due respect, what the heck are you doing?"

There was something so personal in the way he was sprawled out over Jack's sleeping-bag, face down on his stomach, legs and arms spread in the picture of laziness and relaxation. How he achieved this level of trust on an alien planet, Jack would never be able to guess. His bag--_his_ bag-- was bunched up a bit in a ball as Daniel hugged it, nuzzling his face into it comfortingly.

"It's a nine-foot-pole," Jack explained to his 2IC, holding the dowel in a way similar to Teal'c wielding his staff weapon. He was grinning profusely as if he had just said the cleverest thing in the world.

"A what?" Carter asked, uncertain if he really heard him right. Jack shook his head,

"Just watch and you'll find out."

He sat down on his carefully placed chair and casually lowered the pole, then slowly inched it forward, looking for all the world like somebody lining up to take a shot at pool. It kept going forward . . . more . . . and more . . . and entered clean through the tent flap. Suddenly Carter understood.

"You're waking Daniel up."

"Yep."

"This is your next idea, isn't it?"

"I believe it's number forty-two," he confirmed.

Carter shook her head, but she had to stay and watch. It was in her friend's best interest. She'd have to stop the Colonel if it got out of hand.

You know. Just in case.

"So what exactly are you going to--" Carter started, but suddenly shut up when Jack shushed her and she found out the answer to her question. From a distance of a little over nine feet, Jack poked Daniel with the pole.

Carter bit her lower lip to keep from laughing as the still-asleep archeologist swatted at the annoyance like a fly.

Daniel frowned. Realization was slow in dawning on him, but now he was certain. There was most definitely something poking him in the ass.

Slapping at it, the object seemed to retract from his reach. One of his eyes opened blearily to see the side of an Air-Force grade green tent and Air-Force grade white pillow in his face. Had he-- imagined it? But then his tormenter was back with a vengeance. His eye shut and he hollered the one name he knew would always have to be responsible.

"Jaaaaack!"

There was definitely snickering, but it sounded distant. Was Sam--? Oh, great. He should have known that traitor would be in on it. The object-- it felt like a stick or something--poked insistently. He was so immature.

"Jack, cut it out!"

"Cut what out, Danny?" Jack retorted. He sounded oddly distant.

"You know what!"

"I'm afraid I have no idea."

_Jab, jab, jab_. Daniel's voice came squeaky from frustration and morning grumpiness,

"Quit poking me in the ass!"

That sure got Jack laughing, and Sam too. But they definitely sounded like they were all the way on the other side of camp. What the--?

"Danny, you know I'd never poke your ass with a ten-foot pole."

"Huh?" Daniel swatted again, this time opening his eyes to see his target, swoop out of his way like somebody yanks piñata at the last second.

"I said I'd never poke your ass with a ten-foot-pole," Jack repeated with unusual emphasis. Daniel moaned into his pillow.

"Jack, I have no idea what you're talking about, and could you just leave me alone? There's no reason to get up early . . ."

"It's ten-hundred-hours," Jack said, emphasizing each word with a jab.

"Is not," Daniel muttered into the pillow.

"Is too. Check your watch."

He did check his watch. 6:30.

"Jack . . ." Daniel rumbled in his warning tone.

"What I tell ya?" he retorted, STILL poking him with that god-damned stick!

Daniel whipped up and grabbed hold of it all at once, his sleeping bag and pillow gone flying in his wake. On his knees, he looked confusedly at the object he now had a firm grip of with both hands. Following it with his eye, the wood stick kept going. . . and going. . . straight out the tent outside all the way across the camp up to Jack, sitting calmly on a chair holding the other end. When Daniel's eye had followed the complete path up to Jack's face, the Colonel raised his brows at him.

"What the heck is this?"

"A nine foot pole," Jack answered without missing a beat.

There was a joke in there somewhere, Daniel was sure of it. Just by the way Jack had said it and his expression. Something about . . . a cliché. . . it didn't matter. It wasn't worth the effort figuring out.

"You think that's funny?" Daniel asked, voice scratchy from his rude awakening. A smile slowly blossomed on his tormentor's face.

"Yeah, but I have to admit the way you look's even more funny right now."

Daniel tried to pull the pole out of his hands with one, clean jerk, but the Colonel was ready for him and held fast.

"Gimmie this," Daniel grumbled.

"Danny, I was just doing my job. It's morning and--"

Daniel started pulling on the pole and Jack pulled back.

"6:30 in the morning! Why can't you wake me up like a normal person, at least?!"

Carter had long collapsed on a log beside the campfire, in hysterics. It was too much to take.

The two boys continued to bicker and the pole turned into a rather aggressive tug-of-war. They were soon putting all their strength into it. The pole slowly inched in Jack's direction--it was obvious he was gaining ground.

"Forget it Danny, you might beat me at most things, but this is one thing I'm still superior in," Jack said, voice low and grinding as he strained to pull the pole.

"What was that, Jack?" Daniel asked in an oddly normal and polite tone. He let go of the pole with an impassive look. He realized the saying "seeing the whites of his eyes" gained whole new meaning as Jack went flying.

The back of the chair flipped back and smacked the ground with a sickening thud-crunch, the pole following suit to make a loud _crack_ sound as it no doubt impacted with a part of Jack.

Daniel gave a tiny smile of satisfaction.

Sam got to her feet and rushed to him, "Colonel! You ok?"

He watched as Sam assessed the damage, for a moment feeling the worry and guilt that the moron had hurt himself. Then he heard his name being ground out, and he knew the man would survive.

"Daaan-yeeel!"


	9. Way 50 The Performance

_Way #50 -- The Performance_

"Careful. Good, yeah. Tie it tight." Teal'c tugged on the strap and gave it another knot for good measure. Jack gave it a testing tap. It thumped a nice, hollow, deep sound.

"Excellent."

He waved, "Ok, over there, we can finish those off now."

Jack and Teal'c stood in a rather lush forest-- green was everywhere, the canopy above them nearly blotting out all sunshine, wild ferns and climbing vines and all sorts of little flowers. They were in part of a clearing they had made for base-camp, a piece of canvas strung along a good 2/3s of the area, closing it off as a sort of private room. Their packs sat on the ground, a fire was crackling in the center, and all sorts of interesting items were strung about their 'room'.

Jack tapped the large hand-crafted drum again and smiled, "Yeah, this'll be perfect."

"Guys, have you seen my lap--"

Carter came around to the canvas opening and stopped, staring.

"Top? . . . what did you guys do to this place? You've got it trashed!"

"Uh, we'll clean it up," Jack stammered, shuffling to put himself in front of the drum, blocking Carter's view.

"What, did you get bored or something?"

"No. No-no-no. Not bored, we're working on a very important project. Right Teal'c?"

The Jaffa nodded. "Indeed."

"We'll get it all outta your way in a few hours. No worries."

"What is that?" Carter asked, pointing behind Jack. He blinked innocently.

"What's what?"

Sam entered the area and went behind Jack to pull the object out from behind him.

"_That._"

"Oh. Well, uh . . ."

He tapped it and it _thu-dunked_. Carter regarded him suspiciously.

"A _drum?"_

"Yeah."

Carter shook her head and backed off,

"Ok, I'm not even going to ask this time."

She hesitated at the exit.

"Although, I'm surprised at you, Teal'c. I'm not sure why you're helping him."

"We are taking part of a respected Tauri tradition, MajorCarter. I wish to learn more of your culture."

She smiled slightly.

"Well. Good luck with that. Keep in mind the Colonel's version might be slightly slanted."

"Hey. Uh, Carter. _Carter _. . ." he smiled winningly at her. She suddenly felt uneasy.

"What?"

"We, uh . . . we still have a part to fill, and--could really use your help, you know."

She shook her head firmly,

"No way, nuh-uh. I will _not_ get involved in this."

Jack shrugged. "It would be your loss, Carter."

She turned and headed out.

"Considered me lost then."

"You'll come around. I know you're too curious to ignore us," Jack dangled as she left.

"Ok, never mind her. I'll talk her into it later. We got practice to do, Teal'c."

Teal'c nodded.

"I am ready for training, O'Neill."

Carter suddenly stopped tromping through the underbrush and mushrooms, turning around to glance back at the canvas-room strung up to the trees. The firelight cast visible silhouettes onto the canvas of Jack and Teal'c. She could hear Teal'c's deep baritone as he attempted to sing something.

"Ok, right, draw the middle part out."

"Ah-_weena_-wey, ah-_weena_-wey, ah-weena-wey, ah-weena-wey--"

"Yes, good-- but it's like, it's like _uhweenuhwhay, uhweenuhwhay, _y'know, got to have the right rhythm."

"Perhaps you should play the baseline O'Neill."

"Ooh, yeah, good thinking. Ok, here we go. Remember, twice, and then switch, ok?"

"Indeed."

Carter shook her head and made herself turn around and keep walking. She would _not_ get involved. They were in charge of their own crazy affairs.

Teal'c's singing voice sounded strange as she hiked through the trees, as if she had somehow stumbled upon an eerie native settlement.

The world they were currently camping on was fairly warm and humid--_Like a __Jaffa__ Warrior's sweaty armpit!_, as Jack had eloquently stated-- and didn't make for the best sleeping conditions. Of course they had seen much worse, so it wasn't too much to tolerate in comparison. At least there weren't any giant bugs on this world. Daniel had unzipped his sleeping-bag so that he was laying on it like an open-face sandwich, his head half-buried under his pillow, nose nuzzled into the inner-lining of the bag. He could smell everything on this world, because it was at just the right level of heat and humidity to bring out a cornucopia of stenches. Dirt, bugs, plants, that weird tree-sap, the dirty laundry in the corner of the tent, hell, even Sam's electronic equipment half a mile away, probably. Mostly it was just sweaty smelling in the tent, with the tang of body odors and maybe some smoke from the campfire. Yeah . . . smoke . . . mm . . .

Daniel was asleep, and yet some part of him _must_ have been conscious to be contemplating the smell of campfire smoke. Unless he was dreaming. He was uncertain at the moment. He stretched out with his mind, striving to discern the scent of coffee from the smoke . . . charcoal . . . no coffee yet? His thoughts floated back towards less sentient matters, toward a sticky, damp oblivion of sleep. Then something tried to bring him out of it again. It was a rhythm. Just white noise at first, at the back of his mind, but he gradually became more aware of it. He pondered what it could be.

_Fwuuuuzooop!_ The unmistakable sound of the tent flap being pulled back, somebody was going out or coming in. The rhythmical _chika chika chika_ grew louder as somebody shuffled about. Then a deep, hollow _thud thud thud thud_ started in time with the other noise. That was enough to catch Daniel's attention. He unmooshed his nose from its spot and he chanced to try and glance crookedly upwards towards the tent-flap. His vision showed him a slightly fuzzy, sideways view of two men crouched at the entrance of his tent, barefoot with frizzy fern fronds wrapped around their ankles.

"Hhhum?" he mumbled into his pillow in genuine confusion. The feet slowly marched with the rhythm and entered his tent. He realized the _chika-chika-chika_ sounded like a rattle of some sort. A rattle and a drum. And barefooted dancers. Where was he again?

A strange, unrecognizable voice cut through the heavy air of the green tent. It was singing. Daniel blinked, his expression squinting into confusion, and attempted to drag himself upright so he could see. He managed to pull his head above the pillow and lean against it, so that he was lying on his back partially tangled in the bag, gazing upwards. The two men looked alien-- they were wearing fern frond skirts around their waists, wrists and necks, which clicked with little rattle-things, and feathers and grasses were sticking out of one's hair, the other sporting an elaborate headdress-like hat. One of the men, dark and tall and huge, was shaking a pair of rattles, the other with a big drum strapped around his waist, thumping it with both hands, warbling in an alien tongue.

"S-s-Sam? Uh . . ."

The first one threw his head back and howled his lyrics, and Daniel finally recognized it as English;

"In the jungle, the miiiy-tee jungle, the _loin_ sleeps to-nnniiight. . . . _iin_ the jungle, the miiiy-tee-jungle, the _loin_ sleeps tooo-niiiight . . . ."

In an incredibly deep baritone, the other chanted beside him,

"Uh-_wheena_-whuh, uh-wheena-whuh, uh-_wheena_-whuh, uh-wheena-whuh, uh-_wheena_-whuh, uh-wheena-whuh. . ."

They started moving again, dancing around the tent, Daniel's gaze following in stupor. Hopping, skipping, shuffling about, the leader was shimmying his butt so his skirt rattles _ratta-tat-tatted _and the drum strapped around his waist swung about in an almost obscene manner. He hammered into the drum with gusto, his partner dutifully marching in a rhythmical, disciplined manner in his wake. By the time the two had reached Daniel's side of the tent and were dancing behind him, the dazed archeologist was getting a little worried. He held very still and tilted his head back nervously to gaze up at them, seeing an upside-down image of the crazy natives.

_RAT-tat-tat-tat-tat! _The drummer shook his mohawk of feathers exuberantly, and bucked his hips so the drum went _thu-dunk! _Then he playfully cocked his head, eyebrows shooting up sky-high, and grinned openly down at Daniel. All Daniel could do was let his jaw hang open.

"Whuh--Juh--_Jack?"_

The bizarre costumed man he saw upside-down above him winked and clucked his tongue humorously, then enthusiastically continued his song-and-dance, his backup vocals-- Teal'c-- following loyally behind. They danced around the whole perimeter of the messy tent, Daniel watching with an absolutely dumbfounded expression on his face. Then, almost as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone, prancing out of the tent and vanishing into the alien forest. The noisy singers gradually grew distant and then the sound ceased, save for the birds and bugs and ruffling trees. Daniel just laid there for a few minutes in silence.

He could still smell the smoke from the campfire, laying there, staring up at the green roof of the tent, feeling his damp t-shirt and boxers clinging to his skin. He was pretty sure he could smell coffee now too. Muted sunlight streamed in through the open tent-flap. The day was beginning on this world.

"Sam?"

Daniel leaned up into a sitting position.

"Sam, am I crazy or did I just see all that?"

He bit a lower lip. He could have just been dreaming. He did tend to have some pretty bizarre dreams when he was sleeping off-world.

_"Sam?"_


	10. Way 76 Staring Rarities

_Way #76 -- Staring Rarities_

It was raining.

A gentle sort of morning pitter-patter. Daniel could hear it tap against the window pane and the shingles on his roof. The air outside his bed was sweet and cool, but the heavy comforter maintained a bubble of built up body heat from the night. Sunk deep into the covers and the poofy feather pillow, Daniel was quite pleasantly remaining. Being able to sleep in was one of life's greatest luxuries, as far as he was concerned. One of the things that made it so special was its genuine rarity. With the job Daniel had he certainly didn't get this luxury very often. Especially with the way Jack had been doggedly waking him up lately. But Dr. Jackson was officially off the clock today-- yessir. It was blessed Saturday morning. He figured he'd get up around noon time and eat breakfast. He probably would stay in his bathrobe and slippers all day, reading.

Mmm. Daniel savored the thought of merely lounging around the house all day. With nowhere in particular to be, or anything in particular to do. He was so insanely busy during the week, that usually he felt like completely and totally zoning out on the weekends and do as little as humanity possible. Just in order to give his brain a much-needed break from _thinking_.

The shower outside beat a steady rhythm on his roof and was very hypnotic, providing a soothing white noise for his ears. That had always been something Daniel had found comforting. White noise was able to put him to sleep like magic, no matter what the sound was. The purring of electrical equipment, the distant hiss of cars, the humming of a fan, the crackling of a fire, just about anything would do it for him-- especially the persistent pattern of rain. Somehow, the presence of background noise did something to Daniel's mind that made it so easy to drift off. By turning all his conscious focus on the sound, his subconscious mind was open and free to flow. He would watch it drift by like an outside observer standing next to a river, fascinated by its fluid motions, the way it would snake and glide and twist to change directions. It felt like he could never predict its random motions and yet something about it was always so graceful and logical somehow. Standing there by the river brought him closer to that creative energy . . . that was simply fun to sit and watch. He got some of his best ideas from this realm. It wasn't often he had the time to ponder on its shores.

However, Daniel's all-too-rare moments were interrupted by a strange feeling. It was a twinge of discomfort-- some little warning bell way at the back of his head going off. He tried to ignore it but it increased with time and became a distinct sense that something was off, though he couldn't fathom what. In his mind, he groaned at himself, knowing that it this rate, he would eventually wake. It seemed like such a pity to leave so soon, but Daniel didn't seem to have much of a choice. Once it began, the disturbing little warning tugged at him and pulled him up like a buoy rising to the surface. It didn't take long after that. Daniel started to twitch and wriggle under the covers, like a cat reluctant to leave a pile of warm laundry. Sounds sharpened and came into clear focus as Daniel found his senses coming alive, and a rumble from his stomach added its two cents on what Daniel should be doing. Daniel sighed, relinquishing the battle to stay asleep.

He stretched out on the bed and gave a huge yawn, turning over in bed and blinking cautiously at the ceiling. The light was dim and a vague reflection of grey shadows from his water-streaked window reflected off the wall. He gave a pleased "hmm" sound at that and was momentarily distracted at the thought of breakfast. He should start with some coffee and orange juice, and wondered if there were any eggs left. Some shredded cheddar and scrambled eggs might be nice. Toast with jam, too . . .

Daniel stiffened, suddenly, as the warning bell that had been so quiet before suddenly became a strong and alarming sensation now. What . . . was it? He felt nervous and self-conscious, almost as if . . . he felt like he was being _watched_. He inhaled a sharp breath and glanced around his bedroom, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was in its place and the same as he had seen it the night before, so he really didn't need to--

Daniel sucked in a shocked breath and tried to yelp at the same time, so the noise came out as a breathless squeak. He jolted upright in bed immediately, hearing his heart pounding in his head and feeling a cold sweat instantly hit his body, utterly freaked upon seeing the pair of eyes staring into his mere inches from his face. He gasped for stolen breath and his jaw gaped wide and he stared back, and his lagging brain struggled to catch up and identify the aspiration in front of him. All he could see were black pupils at first and the peripheral did not sink into focus until what felt like forever-- far too long for him to escape, if it had been someone dangerous. But the familiar face was already split in a wide grin and a disarming chuckle by the time Daniel saw it. Daniel huffed and found his voice,

"Jack! For God's sake, I nearly wet the freaking bed! What are you _doing?!"_ He gasped afterwards and fought to regain his breath, heart still pounding in his throat and now cold from the sweat. He did not receive any replies, however, because the man was perfectly quiet where he sat. Daniel fought to sit up in his bed and darted his gaze wildly about Jack, trying to find some sort of explanation.

"What's wrong? Why are you in here? Did something happen?"

Jack shook his head calmly. "No, nothing happened."

Daniel exhaled in relief, but was still uncertain what the emergency was.

"Are you okay? What . . . what are you doing here?"

Jack gazed back at Daniel with his usual serene, neutral expression, innocent and clueless to the untrained eye.

"Watching you." He finally answered, in a simple tone.

Daniel's brow wrinkled in confusion and he stared hard at Jack, as if he could somehow better understand him that way.

"What? Watching me? Why?"

Jack took a moment and then gave a tiny shrug.

"Just . . . watching you."

Daniel paused, staring at Jack and thinking. Gauging the man's state of mind. Daniel decided the man was being honest. He really was just watching him.

Daniel glanced Jack up and down-- the man was sitting on Daniel's desk chair, which he had dragged over next to the bed. Nothing else was out of place, not a single thing. It was just Jack on his chair, in his usual civilian clothes, with an innocent blank expression.

Suddenly Daniel gave a short laugh of disbelief. He said,

"Tell me you're just jerking my chain. You really have been sitting there, haven't you? How long have you been there?"

Jack casually looked down at his watch.

"Hm. About an hour by now."

Daniel stared.

"An hour. Just sitting there."

"Yeah."

Daniel raised a brow. Then he gave a self-conscious glance about his room, as if looking for any damning evidence lying around he didn't want anyone to see.

"So let me just get this straight. You got up this Saturday morning, looked out at the rain, and said to yourself, 'I think I'll drive over to Daniel's house, sneak in his bedroom, and watch him sleep for an hour.'"

"Sounds about right, yeah."

Daniel gave Jack a serious stare. The Colonel didn't back down from his position. Daniel finally broke the quiet, speaking matter-of-a-factly.

"Jack, you're very strange."

The man grinned affectionately.

"Thank you."

Daniel sighed, leaning back in bed.

"Okay, Mr. Stalker. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No, I haven't."

"Would you like something to eat?"

Jack tilted his head to the side just a little.

"You'd ask your stalker to breakfast, Danny?"

Daniel pressed his lips together in thought.

"I suppose in this case I would."

"Than I graciously accept. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Daniel waited for Jack to say anything more but the man was quite content to remain comfortably perched on the chair, smiling lightly, as the rain drizzled down the window.

"Jack?"

"Hm?"

"Was this…a wake-up call thing from your…current obsession?"

Jack nodded, "Mm-hmm."

"Aah. I see." Daniel paused.

"It is Saturday, you know."

"Yes, I do."

"Okay. You know."

Daniel watched Jack watch him a little longer. Daniel laughed at the sheer ludicrusy.

"You never fail to make me wonder, Jack."

Jack looked quite pleased with hearing this fact.

"I'll do my best to keep things that way, Daniel."

_A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers-- I really liked some of your ideas. Don't be surprised if they show up in the future! Sorry for the delay, I've had a busy weekend with school. Hopefully I'll be back on track now, I'm working on an actual plot for this story. Still with plenty of Jack's tricks, though. And worry not, for Danny will get his eventual revenge. ;o)_


	11. Way 57 The Caffeine of Choice

_Way #57 -- The Caffeine of Choice_

Jack blinked at the pattern on his ceiling, which was full of squiggly lines under the white paint. Like a bunch of cow spots or something. Textured ceiling, for some reason. For acoustics or something? Jack smacked his lips, tasting the unmistakable bitterness at the back of his tongue-- stale beer, and salt. Mm. Not bad. He wriggled his toes and discovered they were in clean white socks. Not even the ones with holes in them. Good, he was in his civvies-- his good pair of jeans and a tee. He hated it when he fell asleep in his work clothes.

There was a muffled little snore next to his ear and Jack struggled to move. It was quite a feat of effort, however. He was stuck to the warm leather and tangled up somehow. He finally pulled himself to a half-upright posture and noted it was Daniel he was leaning against. The guy had his head pillowed on the puffy armrest of Jack's couch, sleeping blissfully, hair ruffled, looking like he had been given an über-dose of sleeping pills. Jack sniffed and noticed popcorn polka-dotting the couch and he plucked up the bits here and there, munching them down.

After scavenging for lost popcorn, eating it off the couch cushions and Daniel's lap, he took note of the many empty beer-bottles sitting on his coffee table and on the floor. Ah, that made sense. Daniel wasn't a heavy drinker, no wonder he was out cold. There were too many bottles for just the two of them, though, Carter and Teal'c must've been here at some point. Jack scratched his mussed hair, trying to remember the evening. Right, yes, big group get-together, his house, lots of sci-fi movies, beer, popcorn and chocolate. Boy. They sure did a good job trashing his living room. What time was it?

Jack climbed to his feet, taking care to unstick himself from the dozing Daniel as gently as possible. He padded off to his kitchen. The living room was dimly lit by only a small lamp in the corner-- the kitchen was totally dark. He flicked the lights on and glanced to the microwave clock--_2:37_Hmm. Pretty late. He looked around his kitchen suspiciously. Where the heck did Carter and Teal'c go? Jack peeked into his fridge-- a carton of oj, a bottle of ketchup, and a container of expired potato salad. He winced. Right, tomorrow was shopping day. Closing the fridge, he glanced across his kitchen counters and smiled, remembering he wasn't clean out of _everything_ yet.

The smell of warm leather. Daniel sniffed. Mm-hm. Leather and salt and beer and a light muskiness that was familiar to him. Daniel's job was a unique one. It meant that he often spent his days sleeping over on vastly different worlds all over the galaxy. It had the tendency to disorient him when it came to remembering where exactly he was when he finally woke up. This couldn't have been off-world, though, because this wasn't his sleeping-bag, right? Not his familiar bed or the cold, stark SGC infirmary either. Daniel sighed and stretched out to his full length, sliding his body down to cover the entire length of the surface, enjoying the feel of each muscle reaching to full tension and then releasing. Blinking pale blue eyes open, he quickly recognized where he was-- Jack's living room, on his old brown leather couch. God, he fell asleep? They'd never let him hear the end of that. Daniel glanced around the dim room. Where did everyone go?

The gurgle of a coffee machine caught his attention and he perked up. Oh, yeah, Jack always kept the good stuff around at his place. He left the warm comfort of the couch to seek out the kitchen.

Jack was perched on a barstool in front of the counter. He gave Daniel a crooked smile when he entered.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

Daniel smiled sheepishly.

"I heard the coffee machine."

Jack gestured for him to sit and Daniel pulled up the other barstool.

"Where did-- uh, Sam and Teal'c go?"

Jack shrugged. "Not sure, I figured they must've taken off."

"Ah."

Daniel rubbed the back of his slightly stiff neck, and glanced at the clock.

"Ooh. Sort of in the middle of the night, huh?"

"Mm."

"Guess we got pretty involved with those movies there for a while," Daniel commented with a smile, recalling their evening. The team had been in _hysterics_. Sam had cross-examined every single inaccuracy in the movies, and Teal'c's insights were always hilarious whether he intended them or otherwise. Jack mostly made smartass remarks and threw popcorn at his guests and the TV.

"To be honest, I don't even remember what the last one was about," Jack confided. Daniel chuckled.

"It was bad. That's all I remember. We weren't paying much attention."

"Obviously."

They both sat there for a while in companionable silence, watching the coffee machine gurgle away and slowly fill the pot up. Daniel found he was really enjoying it, just sitting there in Jack's dim kitchen, legs swinging freely in the air while perched on the barstool, watching the coffee machine with him at around three in the morning. It was peaceful, sort of meditative. His life usually wasn't so calm.

"We should do this more often," Daniel mused out loud. Jack smirked at him.

"Drink coffee?" Daniel exhaled a laugh.

"I mean all of this. Doing stuff away from work. It's nice."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, watching the pot nearly done.

"Work does get pretty hectic. Even if we do see each other there all the time, it feels like I never really . . . _see_ anybody. You know what I mean?"

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Jack clicked the machine off and reached for the mugs in his cupboard. He was suddenly grinning.

"What?" Daniel queried, trying to figure out what was so amusing.

"You'll like this. I got this one just for you," he said, eager anticipation in his tone. He filled the mugs up and then presented one to Daniel, turning it around so he could see the words printed on the side: _Kiss the Geek. _

Daniel laughed and accepted the mug.

"You shouldn't have," he commented sarcastically, but was actually kind of pleased with the simple gesture.

"S'no problem," Jack returned, smiling into his own coffee cup. He nodded towards the living room.

"Y'wanna go back in there and see what's on TV at 3 in the morning?"

"Sure."

They returned to the scene of the crime, Daniel whistling when he took a good look around for the first time.

"We really trashed the place."

"I know. And those two traitors didn't even stick around to clean up," Jack commented wryly.

Daniel was shuffling the beer bottles into one pile on the coffee table, making room for his mug.

"See if you can find the remote. It's probably under . . ." Jack trailed off when something caught his eye and he wandered over to the TV. Daniel was one step ahead of him and already digging up the couch cushions.

Jack pulled off the Polaroid taped to the TV and looked at it curiously. It was a shot of him and Daniel on the couch, both dead asleep. Jack's face was propped on Daniel's shoulder (his mouth hanging open slightly, no doubt drooling on the poor guy) and Daniel's head had dropped in the same direction, so that they were leaning against each other's foreheads. Popcorn decorated them like glitter. On the blank space beneath the image was a message in black permanent marker--

SWEET DREAMS, GUYS.

HAD TO RUN. THANKS FOR THE POPCORN.

--C & T

Jack shook his head amusedly and cursed the day he had decided to buy a Polaroid camera. It figures Carter would be the one to know where he kept it.

"Got it," Daniel reported cheerfully, and snapped the TV on. Jack came over and tossed himself back on the couch.

"What's that?"

He handed the Polaroid over.

"I gotta remember to keep my electronics away from Carter next time," Jack commented, stealing the remote and flipping through stations. Daniel was still studying the picture.

"I, uh, I don't even remember this."

"That's because you had three beers and were dead asleep," Jack said in a talk-to-children tone, patting Daniel's head. He wrinkled his nose at him.

"As were you."

Jack held a finger up,

"Ah, but not quite. I'm reasonably certain I had quite a few more beers than three, and _then_ was dead asleep."

Daniel smirked and tossed the picture onto the coffee table. They explored the fascinating world of three-o-clock AM TV programming for a while. At some point Daniel murmured into his mug that he should probably find his shoes and brace himself for the drive home before he started falling asleep again. Jack told him that was ridiculous, it was almost 4:00 as it was already, he might as well stay over for the night. He could take the bed.

"But where will you sleep?"

Jack patted his couch lovingly.

"Right here."

"Jack, I'm not kicking you out of your bed."

"I know. You aren't. I haven't gone to bed yet, so technically. . ."

"You know what I mean."

"Trust me, Danny, I've slept on worse. For the longest time, this _was_ my bed."

Daniel blinked at him and Jack shrugged.

"Didn't have a lot of stuff right after the divorce. Didn't feel real motivated to get any, either."

It was more around 5:00 when they finally shut the TV off and Daniel stumbled off in the direction of the bedroom. Jack told him where he kept his clean sheets and stuff, but Daniel was too tired to bother, and just collapsed on Jack's messy bed and slipped into sleep.


	12. Way 58 Bringing Home the Bacon

_Way #58 -- Bringing Home the Bacon_

Sunlight was streaming through the large windows of the bedroom, which Daniel shrunk away from, burying his face under the covers. There was a persistent hissing, crackling sound in the background that was sort of soothing. Sort of like the campfires they had off world or the burbling of hot oil. . .

Daniel took a deep breath and powerful scents filled his senses, a heavy musk and a delightfully greasy, salty smell. It was Jack-- his smell deep in the sheets, and what he guessed was bacon cooking from the kitchen. A heady combination in all, and Daniel sighed and let himself sink back down into the large bed. It felt wonderfully indulgent. Daniel wriggled his stockinged toes, feeling about the lumpy, cozy blankets tangled over him.

Hmm, he should get up.

The man chuckled into the sheets, utterly amused at himself. Yeah, get up. _Sure_. What possible motive could there be for him to do that?

Oh, but there was bacon. That was good. That might be getting up for. Eventually.

Hold it. Bacon?

Jack's house?

Jack couldn't cook. Hell, Jack didn't have anything in his fridge. Hm.

Something was not right here. Needed further investigating.

"Morning, sunshine," Jack greeted exuberantly as Daniel entered the kitchen, and was handed a glass of orange juice.

"Freshly sqouse, here you are."

He turned back to his stovetop, poking the bacon as it hissed and spat. Daniel sniffed the juice curiously a moment and then drank without question. He peered over Jack's shoulder at the pans of bacon and eggs cooking.

"I thought you couldn't cook."

Jack gave him a half-smile from over his shoulder and answered cheerfully,

"Have a seat. Brekkie'll be ready in a few."

Daniel stood there a moment, shrugged, and went over to sit down at the table. There was a mug of coffee waiting there for him, _Kiss the Geek. _Daniel smiled.

Efficiently, portions of egg, bacon, and buttered sourdough toast appeared in front of him, complete with a decorative little slice of orange.

Daniel looked at him suspiciously as Jack sat down.

"I am a man of hidden talent," Jack explained mysteriously. Daniel picked up the orange wedge and nibbled on it.

"And if I shared this knowledge with certain others, such as, say, Sam . . . ?"

"Don't you dare."

"So this is my privileged information."

"With a few conditions, yes."

"Wow." Daniel forked up the eggs eagerly, surprised at how good they were.

Jack nodded knowingly.

"I know."

"So what're your plans for this weekend?"

"Ah. . . I have a bunch of crap to do."

Jack waved his fork around.

"Work's been piling up around this place for months. If it's not one thing, it's another. Kicking Goa'uld butt and saving the planet tends to give you little spare time, you know what I'm saying?" Daniel murmured sympathetically.

"So I figure I'll get it all done in one swoop this weekend, really dive right in. God, this place is falling apart." Jack poked the chair next to him by the table, and it rocked dangerously. Daniel smirked.

"That's actually what I'm sort of doing too. Spring cleaning sort of thing? I have a . . . very long list by now," Daniel thought out loud, nibbling on a strip of bacon.

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's ok. I was actually sort of looking forward to it, to be honest. Compared to what we do at work, it's actually quite relaxing."

Jack grinned as he downed his orange juice.

"Good point. All right, so it's not the worst thing I've done. Better than paperwork, that's for darn sure."

"Amen," Daniel agreed, tapping his coffee mug against Jack's orange juice glass in toast. After some thoughtful sipping, Jack proposed,

"I just got an idea. We both have a huge list of chores for this weekend, right?"

"M-hmm," Daniel murmured, chomping down his toast.

"So . . . why don't we team up? You know, I help you with your chores, visa versa. We'll probably get through em' in half the time. And Lord knows I've nearly killed myself before trying to haul my ass up that ladder by myself."

"Hmm." Daniel pondered this out loud.

"I _could_ use some help with those boxes I have piling up at home."

Jack gestured expectantly.

"Sure, ok. I don't see why not."

"All right, cool." Jack approved, munching down the last piece of bacon.


	13. Interlude Shopping With the Boys

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

_Interlude #1 -- Shopping With the Boys_

"This'll work." Jack squeezed the pruning handles and made snip-snip motions with the garden tool towards Daniel's face.

"Cut my nose off and I'll do worse to you than that, Jack," Daniel said in a calm warning. Jack grinned indulgently at him.

"We need to buy me some screws. I wanna look at the drill bits, too."

"I think that's on the other side of the store. Oooh, let's go over there first."

"Why? There's nothing but flowers over there."

"Not just flowers, all sorts of plants. Don't you need any landscaping?"

"Not really . . ." Jack wandered down the poison and fertilizer aisle and murmured,

"Help me find some good ant bait. The little bastards set up camp during the summer of '95 and haven't left since then."

"I find that shocking considering there's hardly anything to eat around there, normally," Daniel mumbled.

"See! I bought this stuff last time, and it didn't work! They didn't even go near it!"

"Try this, Jack." Daniel pointed out a box. "Supposed to kill the nest. The workers take it back to feed their young and the queen."

"Hmm," Jack pondered seriously, reading the back of the box. Daniel grew bored because Jack studied every single type of ant poison in the aisle so he wandered into the gardening section and came back about fifteen minutes later carrying some plant-pots.

"Danny, I told you I'm not a gardener. I've got the exact opposite of a green thumb. Brown thumb. Er. Whatever you'd call it."

"Don't worry, these are very low maintenance, put em' in the ground and forget about them," Daniel pitched, as if he was a salesman, waving the little pots of ferns and groundcover around.

"You better mean that. Because I'm bad luck for plants, I really am, Daniel. I get within a five-mile radius of them and they die."

"I'm serious, I've gotten these before. Your yard looks like crap, Jack. You don't have a front lawn, you've just got dandelions and crabgrass."

Jack frowned. "It isn't my fault saving the world from total annihilation takes up so much of my spare time."

Daniel pushed the pots into Jack's hands, "Here. Have you picked out a poison yet or not?"

"I've got it narrowed down to this or this . . ."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Jack, just pick one."

"Stop _rushing_ me!"

Daniel grabbed a box and tossed it into the hand-basket Jack had.

"Here. Get this. It works. I promise."

Jack eyed him suspiciously. "You sure?"

"Positive. Come on. Let's go get you some screws."

Jack grinned, "Right, okay."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Jack, exactly how long do you go without food in your house?"

Jack frowned.

"There's food. I still have some popcorn and pretzels in the cupboard. And I think there's a can of chicken soup."

"Ah. Ok. That answers my question then," Daniel responded, turning the empty cart and pushing it forward.

"Hey, hey, where are you going?"

"Follow me, Jack. I shall lead you by the hand to strange new worlds. We have a name for this realm. It is called . . . fresh produce."

Jack sighed in exasperation.

"If I knew you were going to do this, I would've opted to shop with my mother."

Daniel pointed out different areas and issued commands;

"Grab some of those baggies and twisty-ties, pick out about five or six of each: red apples, oranges, yellow apples, a bunch of bananas--"

"I don't really eat--"

"Jack!"

"Okay!"

"I'll get a few heads of lettuce-- not just the useless butterleaf stuff, that's 98 water-- and a few other veggies. Got it?"

Jack grumbled and headed off towards the stacks of fruit. Daniel pushed the cart along the vegetables and bagged a head of butterleaf and a head of redleaf. He hesitated over the spinach, wondering if that would be pushing his luck, and chose to grab a bag of mixed young greens instead with only _some_ baby spinach in it. He got a bag of baby peeled carrots, and was investigating the colorful bell peppers when Jack loped back to the cart, baggies in tow. He tossed them half-hazardly into the cart.

"There, hope you're happy. Half of those'll probably go rotten before I remember to eat any."

"Jack, you like red or green bell peppers better?"

Jack blinked at the question.

"You mean there's a difference? Besides color?"

"Uh. Never mind." Daniel dropped a couple red peppers into the bag.

"But Daniel, I never get those. What do I do with them?"

"Just, slice them into sections. You eat them. Raw. Like carrots. See?" he pointed to the baby carrots.

"Oh. Okay . . ."

"Some people like them in salads?"

"Salad?" Jack grinned. "What's that?"

"Very funny. For being somebody who keeps claiming he'll eat better, you sure don't seem too motivated."

"Ah you gotta catch me at the right time for that."

"Ok, we'll get an English cucumber, and a few tomatoes, and we'll be done here, I think."

"Cool. I'll catch you in the chip-asile, 'kay?"

Daniel sighed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"I like that one. I've been watching him. He's got attitude."

"The label says he's pretty aggressive."

Jack looked to the young man crouched down next to him.

"So?"

"So. What about those tetras you said you wanted."

Jack grinned. "Yeeeah. They were cute."

"That fish would have them for breakfast."

"You think so?" They both peered back into the tank.

"Look at him. Definitely."

"But he's cool. He looks like a shark."

"Well you could not buy the tetras."

Jack glanced to the other fish tanks. The tiny little bright red-and-blue tetras swam in neat, tight formations.

"Y'know, they're fast little suckers, maybe they can fend for themselves if I--"

"Jack! You aren't supposed to mix aggressives with defenseless little tetras!"

"Okay, okay,_ fine_."

Jack looked between both tanks.

"So if I gave them little weapons it would be all right?"

Daniel pointed to another tank,

"Here, what about these guys? They're a bit bigger."

"They're so dull, though. Boring. I don't like em'."

"Hmm."

Daniel wandered down the row of fish tanks a little further while Jack kept watching the little 'shark' swimming around.

"_Ooo! _Jack, c'mere. I've got your fish for you."

"Rrm. Where."

"Here, look!"

Jack came over reluctantly and looked where Daniel was pointing.

"Wow," he said after a moment.

"They're . . . glowy."

"I think they're the ones called lantern tetras," Daniel read the sticker off the fish tank.

"They're glowy . . ." Jack observed again, watching the swimming school of fish like he was hypnotized.

"Are you two ready to buy your fish?" Daniel glanced up at the young man with the blue employee t-shirt.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so. Jack . . .?"

". . . glowy . . ." Jack murmured, eyes still glued to the tank. Daniel smirked and pointed to the tank, addressing the employee.

"He'll take about five of the glowy fish, to start with."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"I always wonder how these mom-n'-pop restaurants stay in business these days," Jack said through his mouthful of sandwich.

"I'm not sure. There's less and less of them though. It's a shame because I really do like the variety and personal touch they give you."

"Mm-hmm. Where else can you go eat lunch where they hang rusty steel rods and taxidermied cattle heads off the walls?"

The place was a Western-themed deli, Jack's treat. They had swung by Jack's place first to put away the groceries and introduce the fish to their new home first, of course.

"Hopefully the answer is nowhere else," Daniel commented, munching on his fries.

"Exactly. It's entirely unique."

Jack took a big bite out of his BLT and spoke through his food,

"Okaysh. Gesshing doww oo buisnuss. Whu's the firssh thing we doin' when we geeh back?"

"Er. The gardening, I guess, before it gets too hot for that. Get those plants in the ground and stuff."

"Yeash, good idea. Then we can get that damn wall painted."

" Woah, hold on a sec. You never said anything about painting, Jack."

"Yeah I did! . . . didn't I?"

"No. You didn't."

"Well, I am now. Don't worry, it won't take that long. It's just, the guest bedroom needs revamping. It's been a storage room for all my boxes and crap for years, I've been meaning to get around and fixing it up."

"What for?" Daniel asked curiously, as he worked through half of his French Dip sandwich.

"Are you expecting company or something? . . . renting the room out?"

Jack laughed.

"No. You actually think anyone would be crazy enough to want to live in that mess? Mostly I just want the crap cleared out of there. It's depressing every time I walk by it. So if I make the room all pretty I'll have a harder time screwing it up again."

"Aah. Clever tactic."

Jack nodded, sipping his Coke.

"You have to know how to outsmart yourself."

Daniel murmured off-handedly, "That shouldn't be too difficult for you."

"I _heard _that!" Jack snapped, pointing an accusing finger at a smirking Dr. Jackson.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Daniel gazed up at the wall in front of him as he adjusted the metal ladder.

"Shouldn't we tape up the corners on this one or something?"

Jack grunted from his position, up a ladder against the other wall, wheeling away with the paint-roller.

"Don't bother. 'Swhite paint. Same color as the ceiling . . ."

Daniel shrugged. "Okay." He dipped the roller in the pan of paint, spooged it up, and climbed the ladder to get to work. _Bzzzzrt bvvvrrrrt buzwuuuup phuuuuup _went the paint rollers. Daniel winced as a fine spray of white paint coated his face, spraying off the roller when he tried rolling the wall directly above his head. Fortunately he had been smart enough to already remove his glasses and put them somewhere safe.

"Uff. You better make this worth my while, Jack," he threatened, half serious.

"Huh?" The man was concentrating hard on his work.

"Make what worth your while?"

Daniel glanced over at Jack and the Colonel instantly chuckled at the paint-sprayed face.

"Don't you worry, Danny. I'll make sure to get equally dirty when I'm doing your chores tomorrow. One good turn deserves another right?"

"Mm. Thanks for the reassurance."

It didn't take the two of them very long to cover most of the four walls in the modestly-sized bedroom. They switched to carrying paint in paper cups with smaller paint-brushes so they could work on the edging. Standing on the final step of the ladder, Daniel reached up to work on the edging near the ceiling.

"Uh. Daniel, I don't think you're supposed to stand there."

"You don't expect me to sit on your shoulders to do this, do you?"

Jack pointed at the step with his paint-brush.

"But you're violating the warning sticker's command."

Daniel snorted.

"You dare scoff at the Warning Sticker?" Jack asked in mock disbelief, careful to speak in capitals. Daniel peered down a moment and then leaned all the way down, a rather precarious move, grabbed the head of the ladder in one hand, and reached over with his paint brush. He lifted one foot and then the other, swiping the sticker in white paint until it disappeared.

"There. Better?"

"Much."

Daniel leaned back up on the ladder, nearly losing his balance trying to hold the paint cup in one hand and the brush in the other, so Jack made sure to grab a leg to ensure he didn't go careening down.

"Ahem. Shouldn't you be painting instead of worrying about me?" Daniel asked, pretending he didn't notice his near slip.

Jack rolled his eyes and crouched down on the floor, working on the edge that met with the floor. He decided that if he worked directly under Daniel then at least Jack's spine would break his fall should he slip. Unfortunately it also put him at risk for other hazards. A few minutes later Jack frowned when he felt a few wet dribbles hit his scalp like raindrops. Reaching into his hair he pulled white paint off with his fingers, just like he feared.

"Watchit, Daniel! You're dripping all over me."

"Oh. Sorry."

Jack did the best he could dodging the paint-drops, though it occasionally still drizzled white paint down on him. They worked like this across the room for some time. Jack eventually had to get up and give his poor knees a break from this torment, and when he looked down at himself noticed he was neatly polka-dotted with enough white spots to pass as a snow leopard.

"Danny! You're a bit sloppy, you know."

"Am not! I keep brushing the extra off on the side of the cup. I haven't been spilling."

Jack glanced up to his work partner and his eyes widened in concern.

"Hey! You're getting paint on my pants! C'mon Dan, cut it out! I'm gonna need to get you a smock or something."

Daniel gave him an annoyed look.

"Jack, you loaned me these because you _said_ they were junk pants! I assume that meant they could get dirty!"

"I know, but I didn't want you to turn them into white denim, a few blotches here and there is one thing, but you're swimming in it!"

Daniel made a dismissive exhaling sound and continued with his trimming.

"Oh, ignore me, will you?"

"They aren't that dirty, Jack. Relax."

Jack growled and grabbed ahold of Daniel's ass firmly in one hand. Daniel immediately froze. It took several tries but then he was able to ask in a nervous tone,

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't forget what's mine," Jack replied in a gravelly voice. Daniel realized he was sweeping his paint brush over the seat of his pants. The Colonel etched a sloppy but legible 'JACK O'NIELL' on the pants, let go and looked up expectantly at Daniel.

"Uh. I can't really read that, you realize."

"But everyone else can."

Daniel looked over his shoulder and strained to read what was written on his butt. He wasn't very successful and it hurt his neck.

"Jack, what's it say?"

"Just answered your own question."

"Huh?" He frowned and lifted an arm up, trying to get a better angle to see. Then he gave an irritated sigh.

"What did you write?!"

Jack raised both his brows at Daniel, grinning evilly up at him.

"What do you think, Daniel?"

Dr. Jackson shook it off.

"Whatever, Jack. I don't care what you write on your own pants."

"That's fine with me. As long as we've established they're mine."

Daniel sighed again in annoyance.

"Okay, would you like me to give _your_ pants back now, Jack?"

"No-no, that's okay, Daniel. You can wear them. I can have them back later. Hey I'm gonna go get some chips and something to drink, I'll be right back. You want anything?"

"A soda if there's any left."

"Okay."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..


	14. Way 59 Unintentional Stirrings

_Way #59 -- Unintentional Stirrings_

Daniel's peaceful afternoon nap was interrupted by a rattling sound that filled the entire room and vibrated his teeth, reminding the young man of one of his old childhood houses, the one that had been situated right next to a railroad track. When the train came rolling by every night at 3:00 sharp you could see the pictures jumping on the walls and the bed sliding across the room.

But what he heard now couldn't possibly have been a train, for it was much too close even for that.

He used his arms to lift himself upright a few inches and blinked with confusion at the leather throw-pillow that bore the imprint of his face. The pillow rested _on top_ of a pair of legs with jeans and white socks. As he tried to comprehend this his thoughts were cut short by another long, rattling clatter that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and practically made his eyes water.

Grunting, Daniel clumsily tried to get up, but met with resistance, and he slipped and fell off the couch. Well, he half-fell. The first half of Dr. Jackson found his face meeting the carpeted floor. The other half was still caught on the couch, his legs weighed down by something. Feeling understandably silly, he lifted himself up by his hands and 'walked' forward a bit, then tried to look at the couch.

Ah, it all made sense now. Jack was smack-down on a throw pillow just as Daniel had been, and the pillow was still on Daniel's legs. The young man sighed and wondered how on Earth the two of them ended up 69'ing it on the couch. Then his face flushed as his mind contemplated that risqué thought, quickly amending his choice of wording. He tugged a little to escape but Jack was heavier than he expected. The oblivious man let loose another long, gargling snore that should have woken up the entire neighborhood.

"Rrrgh, leggo," he grumbled, crawling across the floor on his chest and trying to pull his legs out. Jack was a frickin' deadweight. But Daniel had little traction so that didn't make it any easier. He reached out to grab the leg of the nearby coffee table but it was barely beyond reach.

Growling, he laid on his chest and stretched every tendon, reaching with all his might, his fingertips brushing the surface of the leg, until finally he got enough grip to wrap his fingers around it. Jack continued to snore away blissfully. Daniel used the table to try and pull himself out, groaning in pain at the stress it put on his joints. The table started sliding towards him instead of helping him further. Daniel grit his teeth and considered he just might have to wake Jack up in order to get free, but felt he was at the point beyond no return. There was no way he was gonna let Jack see him like this now. He'd never hear the end of it. So Daniel kept wriggling his body and trying to work his legs free, until he finally gained some slack. Once he accomplished that small bit of slack it was much easier sliding from that point, and finally he yanked free and went splat stomach-down on the floor with an "_oof_."

The man gave an indignant sniff, glancing back to notice his jeans had been pulled halfway down his body in the process. He got up carefully and pulled the pants back up, giving the dozing Jack an evil eye. Jack in no way responded, his face still squashed into the pillow, as if nothing had happened.

"God, Jack, you're even worse when you're not_ trying_ to wake me," Daniel muttered. Jack answered with an ear-grinding snore. Daniel hovered over the sleeping man and momentarily considered a rude awakening as an act of vengeance. Jack was so completely innocent laying there. His face was relaxed and void of any of the usual stress-lines, and he almost had a slight smirk to his lips. He looked so much younger and open and free at the moment . . . so very free.

Daniel gave a weary sigh as that free, innocent Jack gave another splitting snore. Daniel couldn't do it. As obnoxious as Jack was, the way he constantly argued with him, the bickering and the teasing, the pranks and the abuse . . . Daniel knew it was in jest. It was just the way Jack communicated with people, with anyone, really-- though especially Daniel. It was hardly Jack's fault that his manner of communication happened to entail especially antagonistic behavior and . . . well, okay, maybe it was Jack's fault, somewhat. But Daniel understood. And God help him, he forgave. Truth be told, Daniel didn't find Jack all that difficult to deal with. He used to, sure. But he had grown so accustomed to it by now that . . . he found it more entertaining than anything else. He probably enjoyed the stupid fighting as much as Jack did.

So he really didn't have a burning desire to wreak revenge upon Jack. At least, not at that particular moment. Instead, he shuffled off into Jack's kitchen. It was pretty late in the afternoon and Daniel had a plan in mind. After Jack had so kindly made him breakfast and treated them to lunch at the deli, Daniel was going to be sure to return the favor with dinner. Daniel moved about Jack's kitchen easily, already familiar with its organization. After all, he did help Jack with his groceries earlier today. The man had been quite resistant about that. Insisting he wanted help eating better and then bickering every step of the way when Daniel tried to offer that help. He certainly could be a walking contradiction at times. No matter, though, because Daniel was cooking solo, and he happened to be pretty good at it. Well, good at this one dish. That was the extent of his cooking skills, really. They'd be more than enough for tonight though. He pulled out several items from the fridge and rooted around to find Jack's sauce pan.

It was around 4:30 in the afternoon, quiet and peaceful in the tiny suburb where Jack's house was nestled, as nobody had quite gotten home from work yet. Most of the shades were drawn in the house to dim the area for their long afternoon nap. The two men had worked themselves to exhaustion today with their endless list of chores, so collapse was inevitable. Especially since with the Friday-night partying, they hadn't exactly gotten tons of sleep the night before. Half-way through cooking Daniel wandered back into the living room to check on Jack. Boy, when that guy slept, he really _slept_. Daniel smiled faintly as he watched. The newly scrubbed and set-up fish tank caught his eye. He wandered over and sprinkled in some fish food. The little guys were very excited about that. Then Daniel went back to the kitchen.

The sky started to get dark around seven, and it was around this time Jack's snoring began to fade. Then the Colonel sat up suddenly, blinking awake, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sucking in a deep breath. He looked around his living room a little bit, obviously trying to recall when he had fallen asleep, having not expected that. The front door creaked open and Jack glanced over, seeing Daniel coming back in. As the man passed him by he noticed,

"Oh, good, you're awake. I thought you might sleep right into Sunday. Dinner's almost ready."

Jack watched with a blank look as his busy friend vanished into the other room. He glanced around the dim room once more as if might hold some clue as to what was happening. But it did not offer much. The room was neat and clean for once-- white carpets vacuumed, wooden coffee table polished, magazines and catalogs stacked neatly, the fish tank's air pump burbling away, the brightly colored fish darting about. Jack paused a moment to smile faintly at the fish, remembering how he and Daniel had named them, (Shiny Fish One, Shiny Fish Two, Shiny Fish Three . . .) and then snapping out of his daze. He got up and padded over to the kitchen.

The room glowed brightly and the table was carefully set for two. A large bowl of mixed salad sat in the center of the table next to a plate of warm garlic bread and a plate of sliced fruit fanned out all nifty-like, plus a pitcher of lemonade. Jack raised a cautious brow and peered up at the man still moving about his kitchen.

"I seem to have awakened in an alternative dimension," Jack observed seriously. Daniel smiled a little but didn't turn around from what he was doing.

"How's that?"

"I'm not sure. But it must have happened somehow. The last time I checked, I . . . hold on. Turn around."

"What? Why?"

Wooden spoon in hand, Daniel turned partially and gave Jack a funny look. Jack's eyes grew wide as they swept the man up and down, and then did so again. He pointed to Daniel's waist.

"You're . . . you're . . ."

Daniel looked down.

"Oh. Uh. Found it in the painting supplies you had. The oil was spattering a little."

"Wait, don't _move!_ For the love of all that's holy, you've got to let me burn this moment into my memory before you move," Jack rambled, holding his hands up in picture-frame style. Daniel sighed patiently and rolled his eyes.

"Jack, quit it. It's just this one thing I'm decent at cooking I learned from my grandparents. I'm terrible at anything else. Horrible."

"This is wonderful," Jack trilled happily,

"My little Danny-boy in an apron. Oh, yeah, wait, hold that pose. With the pouting lip."

"Huh?" Daniel glared at Jack and protested,

"I don't _pout_ for god's sake."

"You do a little."

Daniel glanced down at himself and did feel a little silly in the apron. He tipped the spoon sideways and leaned against the counter a little, exaggerating his pout. Jack sniggered, encouraging him, so he posed a little more, holding his right elbow in his palm, and tipping his head down so he could peer upwards at Jack, brows raised suggestively.

"Oh God. My slutty little kitchen-boy. If you had your pants off you'd belong in a calendar."

Daniel tilted the spoon over towards his face, curving his lips around the scoop and biting gently. He murmured huskily,

"You want your pants back now, Jack?"

Jack exploded in laughter at the unexpected question and Daniel laughed along with him, sly smirk on his face.

"Jesus, Daniel, you're a natural. I _told_ you I'd woken up somewhere other than my own universe! We aren't a married couple in my timeline."

"Funny. Sit down, the pasta's ready. Any more jokes about the apron and you don't get fed," Daniel warned, turning to finish spooning out the pasta. Jack didn't dare push his luck, because his stomach told him it was well past time to eat, so he took his seat. The dish of pasta came down on the table and he eagerly served himself.

"Thank you, ma'--"

"Ah-AH!" Daniel grabbed the dish, as if to pull it away, glaring at Jack. The Colonel quickly amended,

"Errrrrr, _man_. Heh heh. Dude. Groooovy."

"Being able to cook pasta isn't any different than being able to cook eggs and bacon," Daniel said in an admonishing tone.

"Right. Yes. Of course." Jack answered, smiling, clearly not agreeing. Daniel switched tactics. He asked in a grave tone,

"Maybe I should let Sam and Teal'c know that you'd love to host breakfast the next time we're all over?"

Jack's eyes widened at the terrible notion and he quickly changed his mind.

"I won't tell if you won't."

"That's a good boy," Daniel agreed, letting go of the dish.

The two finished serving themselves and started eating.

"So, have a good nap?" Daniel asked. Jack occupied himself with whorling his fork in the pasta, a bit embarrassed about falling asleep.

"I must've worked myself harder than I thought. I don't normally zone out like that."

"You were sleeping pretty heavy," Daniel agreed.

"I guess that sorta makes me an ungrateful host."

"Eh, don't worry about it. Gave me a chance to take my turn."

Jack didn't look any happier so Daniel continued,

"It's not like you were the only one, I was asleep a while too."

"You were? . . ."

"Yeah. Remember? We emptied the rain gutters. Planted those things and did the weed-whacker. Went through all of your boxes and took that trip to the dump. And then shampooed the carpets and all that junk, and after we tried dusting for the cobwebs on your ceilings, we sat down on the couch for a break and said we'd only rest a minute . . ."

"Oh yeah. Okay. I only vaguely remember that last part."

They paused and then Jack chuckled.

"We did work pretty hard, the place is spotless. Maybe we went a little overboard trying to fit it all in one day."

"Nah, I think it worked out pretty good."

"I think I got enough done for this place to last the rest of the year. If we made this an annual event we'd have it made."

Daniel grinned. "The entire season of spring cleaning packed into a single weekend. Yeah, that sounds like your style."

"Heck yes. Daniel, you know how much I totally appreciate you coming over like this and letting me employ you as my slave labor."

"I know."

"I'll make up for it tomorrow. I still got enough work left in me for another day. I'll be shit on Monday, but that won't matter to me," Jack grinned.

"Sounds good to me. I'm actually feeling pretty good after that nap."

"Yeah, me too." Jack chewed on a piece of garlic bread.

"And, um, thanks for making dinner. You really didn't have to do all this . . ."

Daniel shrugged.

"I wanted to. After you made breakfast and treated us to lunch, why not."

"True, but my logic was keeping my slave laborers well fed."

The archaeologist smiled at him.

"All right, so maybe you have mixed motives, but the sentiment's still there."

"This really is good by the way. I don't even know what it is I'm eating but I think I'm in love."

"Ah, just some garlic-basil pasta stuff, simple cream sauce . . . you flatter me, though."

"No, no, I mean it! The sausages go really good with it."

Daniel chuckled. "Thanks."

"See, Danny, between the two of us we almost have a whole day down. My breakfast, your dinner, and take-out lunch," Jack grinned.

"Ah. The perfect weekend."

"Yep."

"And a whole list of chores and errands?"

"Well, we can skip that part next time," Jack advised.

Daniel wrinkled his nose.

"Not that I want you to take this the wrong way, Jack, but what exactly would we do all day then? We don't exactly have a lot of common interests."

Jack explained wisely,

"What all men share as common interests. Eating, sleeping, procrastinating . . ."

"Oooh. I see." Daniel sipped his lemonade. After some thought he decreed,

"That might actually be a little slice of Heaven, considering what we do during the weekdays."

After dinner, the boys had a lot of hyper energy to burn, especially after that carb-boost and their extended afternoon snooze. They sat on Jack's couch with the pint of ice-cream they had bought, kicked off their shoes, and fought over the remote control. It was double-chocolate chip fudge swirl, and they were eating it directly from the container, with the last of the beer from Jack's fridge. A disgusting combination, but they did it anyway. They watched all kinds of random shows and the hours passed by without notice. They were far too hyper to feel tired, and the nap had messed up their sleeping cycle, anyway. The beer bottles emptied fast and eventually the ice-cream quart was mostly empty as well, the last of it sitting on the table as a soggy mess. When watching stupid movies or freaky documentaries grew dull, they turned off the TV and messed around with Jack's music collection for a while. This was highly entertaining for the late-night partiers. At some point Daniel was using the speaker remote in imitation of a microphone, singing at the top of his lungs into it. They fought over the remote, of course, and what music to put on, and some shocking members of Jack's music collection that cannot be revealed. They didn't stop until the neighbor called with the polite suggestion that they shut the heck up.

Things started winding down after that point, though they still didn't feel like sleeping. Jack was lying on the floor, chest-down on one of the giant leather throw-pillows normally on his couch, pondering his newly cleaned carpet. He was sort of zoned-out in wonder land at the moment. He didn't notice when Daniel wandered off and returned several minutes later. In fact, he didn't snap out of his daze until the 'click' of the gas-match and the spark of flame caught his eye. Leaning up a little, he murbled,

"Hey. What're you doing."

"Here. You'll thank me for this. I want to show you what Teal'c taught me."

Jack blinked, taking in the fact that Daniel had situated candles at several points throughout the room. Then he sat up and protested,

"Oh no you don't. I'm not into any of that Zen crap, Daniel, you know that. It's just not my thing."

Daniel lit another white candle and replied,

"Relax, Jack. I'm not asking you to Kel'Nor'Reem. It's just a simple meditation technique."

Jack shook his head as Daniel came back over.

"Exactly. I know what that stuff is. I had some goofy psychologist try and make me do it one time. I was in no mood to go to my happy place."

Daniel sat down on the floor next to him and set two candles down in front of them.

"What would your happy place be anyway?" Daniel asked. Jack rolled his eyes.

"It would involve a canopy bed the size of a small beach. There's a mirror ceiling, too."

"Hmm. Maybe a little too happy for meditation." He clicked the gas-match and lit the two candles.

"You're tellin' _me._"

Daniel set the lighter aside.

"Okay, so you're sitting in a big, open field . . ."

"Daaaaniel . . ."

"Just kidding. Look, I promise, no happy places."

"What about chanting. And standing on my head. I can't do that."

"No chanting or weird poses either."

"I think I'll just watch."

"Be a good sport, Jack."

"But I make such a good bad sport."

"The first thing you need to do is get comfortable."

"Um, will this require taking my clothes off?"

"What? _No!"_

"Just _asking._"

"Jack, sit your ass down on the pillow."

Jack sighed, as if Daniel were asking something extraordinarily unreasonable, but complied, scooching all the way onto his pillow.

"Ass is cushioned, sir."

"Good. Now look at the fire."

Jack grumbled, but looked down at one of the white candles on the floor, burning in its glass candle-holder.

"Pretty," he deadpanned.

"Concentrate on the flame. Try and notice the pattern when it flickers."

Jack sighed and stared at the candle flame. The tiny bright orange streak wavered back and forth slowly, in a very gentle flicker. Daniel gazed at his own candle.

"Start to take some deep breaths. Slowly. Hold it in a moment and then slowly release. Try not to lose focus on the flame."

"I'm okay with the breathing I'm doing right now," Jack observed.

"Jack, come on. Just a few deep breaths. It's not going to kill you."

"All right, jeez. Whatever."

Jack inflated his chest deep and exhaled, feeling it was utterly pointless. He continued to stare at his candle.

"That's right. Nothing huge. Just slower, deeper breaths. The tiny point of light should still be your focus. Try and ignore everything else. Let it all fall away. The fire's movement is the only thing that matters."

Jack gazed sedately and continued to breathe deep. He blinked and tried to ward off the drowsiness. Daniel spoke in a quiet voice,

"There will probably be other thoughts in your mind that keep popping up. That's inevitable. Just gently push them aside when they arise. Your goal is the fire. It encompasses everything. It is the only thing."

Jack exhaled and peered at the small dancing light. And then it happened. For a moment, he let it be the only object of his focus. And that moment expanded. The light flickered, and he was present with it, completely, in that moment in time and space. Daniel kept giving directions, he thought, but he wasn't paying attention to them. They didn't register consciously, anyway. Breathe . . . flame . . . breathe . . . flame. The colors of the surrounding room started blurring together and melting away into a twisty blackness. Jack blinked but that only revived the background for a fraction of a moment, and then it was submerged in blackness again, the fire in the center of his vision dominating all. He took a deep breath and kept on staring. It was around then he started to feel a little woozy and dizzy. He squinted and tried to ignore it. Breathe . . . flame . . . breathe . . . flame . . .

A hand on his upper-arm squeezed gently, then a little more firmly, and he blinked and glanced away from the candle.

"Okay. Jack. Hey, Jack. Are you all right?"

Jack peered vacantly across the room a moment, as the colors and shapes returned as the way they should. Then he looked to his friend's face.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you okay? You weren't answering and looked a little, uh, floaty."

"Yeah I'm fine. I'm-- I'm good. You were saying something?"

Daniel smiled a little.

"Yeah, I was. I thought you were going dizzy so I stopped. It can be sort of a risky thing when you're not used to it. Teal'c says I almost passed out the first time."

Jack snorted.

"I do not faint. Unless I've been shot in the head with a zat. Then I have good reason to."

Daniel looked at him suspiciously. Jack noticed Daniel was still holding his arm and realized that it had taken physical contact before he snapped out of it. He winced.

"Okay. Maybe I was a little. Um. Whatcha call it."

Daniel smirked and let go of his arm.

"Yep. You were whatchacallit. That was the point."

Jack glanced skeptically down at the candles still burning.

"It's not like much _happened_. It's just zoning out. I get the same effect when I'm drunk, or when I'm falling asleep, or when I'm lost in thought . . ."

"Exactly," Daniel nodded. Jack looked up at him.

"That's all it is. All you're doing is deliberately altering your state of consciousness. There're a lot of ways to do it."

Jack grunted,

"Why don't we just get another six-pack then and continue our 'meditation.'".

Daniel smiled indulgently.

"If that's how you like it, all right."

Jack laughed.

"Nah. I think we've had enough for one night."

"Okay. You ready to try again then?"

Jack groaned. "Again? I thought we were finished."

"What's wrong Jack, do you have something better to do right now?"

The Colonel chuckled,

"That's evil, Daniel. No fair playing that card, you know it gets me every time."

Warming up to his teacher role, Daniel repeated his commands.

"Get your butt comfortable on the pillow and gaze at the candle . . ."

"A happy butt means a happy mind."

"Exactly."

"Okay." Jack shuffled around and grinned, then squashed down his smile and cleared his throat, making a distinct effort to wear the most neutral face he could muster. He sat very still and straight, then sort of bowed his head, speaking in a lower, grave tone,

"My ass is adequately prepared, MasterJackson. Please commence."

Daniel stared awhile, jaw agape, unable to quite find any words. Finally he sputtered,

"Uhm-- Teal'c? Was that channeling Teal'c?"

Jack gave a solemn nod.

"Oh God. Okay, you probably shouldn't do that again, scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry."

Daniel laughed and shook his head.

"Right. Um, okay. Uh. Where were--ah! Yes. Look at the candle. Gaze into the flame."

Jack obediently looked down at his candle, which was now flickering more as it burned its way down the wick. He listened as Daniel's voice lowered into a deep, soothing tone as he guided the meditation.

The night sort of melded into a mysterious blur of time after that. After they had their fun with the medication technique, the exercise tapered off into conversation-- conversation that flowed freely under cover of darkness, light and shadow bouncing off the walls of Jack's living room deep into the night. It began with Daniel chattering about the experiences he'd have with meditation but soon moved on from there to anything and everything. They talked about what happened that week at the SGC, and the latest gossip circulating through the grapevine. They talked about sports, politics, the weather, Abydos, Cassie, Jack's cabin, and the usual everyday mundane stuff. But mostly, they discussed the strange and random, like exactly how many monkeys with typewriters and exactly how much time it would actually take to produce the complete works of Shakespeare, the kinds of things dogs dreamed about, and what foods could be paired successfully with chocolate while what foods could _not_. That essential sort of uselessness that makes you ponder the universes' biggest questions.

They were laying on the leather pillows on the floor, leaning close over the two small candles, half-asleep but not tired enough to actually sleep-- and it felt like the most they'd ever talked in a single block of time ever. Which was unexpected but certainly not uninvited. They'd simply never imagined that the two of them would have much to discuss, really. Usually when they spent too much time together it wouldn't take long for them to annoy each other to death.

It was when the candles had burned down low-- the leaping flames brushing the bottom of the candle-holder, close to depleting their source of wax-- that they began actually feeling tired and fading out of consciousness. They were stubborn though and too lazy to get up and actually go to bed. So they still talked in their half-asleep stupor. The talk had strayed into rather personal territory.

"It's been so long since I've felt that, Jack. I used to have it on Abydos. For a while, I really did. But it's always been fleeting for me. When my parents died . . ."

He trailed off a moment in thought. Jack was lying on his back, gazing at the ceiling as he listened intently.

"I was shuffled around a lot between relatives. Not all of it was bad. I loved them, and they took good care of me. But it made it hard to have any sense of . . . permanence in my life. It gives you this drifty feeling, like anything can change at anytime. Not necessarily for the worst, but definitely change, and definitely quick."

Jack murmured in acknowledgment.

"Every time a place really started feeling like home, well, I'd go somewhere else. And for the most part, I was well welcomed and everything. But it felt like I never got to . . . _keep_ anything. Anything I made my own, eventually was taken away or I had to leave. Not so much things, I mean, people and places. Am I making sense?"

"Mm. Yeah."

"So what I'm saying is that this has felt like the pattern my whole life. Think about it. I worked to make my career in anthropology, to make my mark on academia. And I obviously lost all of that once I announced my oddball theories. Then there was Abydos . . ."

"It wasn't your fault, Daniel," Jack interjected, voice sympathetic.

"--I know it wasn't. It wasn't anyone's. Well. I guess that's not true. It was . . . _his_ fault."

"And he got what he deserved."

"Right . . . well, anyway. She was taken from me, too. And God, for the longest time, I was obsessed with getting her back."

"Who could blame you?" Jack murmured.

"Well, yes. I guess it's pretty understandable. But . . ."

Daniel sighed and fell quiet. After a while Jack spoke in Daniel's absence.

"It's hard to stay that obsessed for so long."

Daniel exhaled as if in relief-- as if he'd been holding his breath.

"Exactly. And the more it digs at you, just the more stubborn and driven you become."

He paused.

"It's draining," he said.

"It is," Jack agreed, feeling what Daniel was describing.

"It feels like it's consuming you. Slowly, everything else that's a part of you, until there's only. Only the bitterness," Jack murmured slowly. They watched the light play off the white walls for a while.

"I hope you're still not doing that now," Daniel said quietly. Jack sighed slowly. He was quiet for a long span and then talked.

"Well I do it less than before. Much less. I--uh. It's funny, really. I mean, you know, in a perverted sort of way." Jack paused to grimace.

"I used to have this strange sort of hope. That if Sarah and I could ever patch things up . . . _when _we did. Well, that somehow that would resolve things. That there was at least a possibility. For amends."

Jack smiled humorlessly at himself.

"She told me she couldn't stand the way I look at her anymore. This deep, crushed, forlorn expression. Like a kicked puppy, she called it. She told me I only looked to her for atonement now. She said that wasn't a good enough reason for two people to be together."

Daniel gazed at the black silhouette of his friend speaking toward the ceiling.

"And you know, she was right about that. I guess once I accepted that, I stopped obsessing so much."

"Mm."

They drifted a while and Daniel observed,

"We get a lot of brooding done between the two of us, huh?"

Jack chuckled lightly.

"Yeah. You add Teal'c and we'd have the Three Musketeers alright."

Daniel smiled a little at that. They both gazed at the ceiling, lost in these thoughts. A candle went out somewhere in the room. Minutes passed and then more minutes, and Daniel could feel his mind sinking towards the inevitable. But as his thoughts twisted in that spiral towards sleep, his eyes lit up in sleep-deprived epiphany.

"Jack," he said, not even certain of he was still awake. There was a delayed response but Jack did make a murble sound.

"The human psyche always finds a way to survive. That's the natural order of things, it . . . it _wants_ to be balanced. You know? It . . . seeks it."

Jack mumbled, in a tone to suggest he wasn't too impressed with this vague revelation. Daniel leaned on his elbows to face Jack and say,

"No, no, look. You _need_ some sort of control. Order to the chaotic cosmos. You can't help but seek it, take whatever you can find . . . you got to take refuge."

Jack wasn't sure if the crazed man was making any sense, but he tried to pay attention to him anyway.

"That's what a home is, anyway. A haven."

Daniel paused, and the look on his face suggested things were falling into place, though Jack had no idea what at the time. Jack decided to tell him as much and purred,

"Honey, you're rambling. Either tell me what you mean or go to sleep."

Daniel laughed at the ridiculous term of endearment, then looked down upon Jack with such a marvelous expression. Jack couldn't describe it, it was just, the man's whole tired face lit up so happily.

"You, Jack. It's been long since my last fleeting taste of it, until now. Lately . . . I don't know, something's been different. At the SGC, you know? I know we've all been close, real close, almost since the start. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about . . . that sort of stability."

Jack blinked up at Daniel's face, his mind flashing back to sitting on the barstools in his dark kitchen, watching the coffee pot with Daniel. Suddenly he felt he understood what Daniel was getting at.

"You ever . . . uh, you ever thought about having kids before, Daniel?"

Daniel didn't know where this came from, but he paused to consider it.

"In the abstract, I suppose, but not seriously. I never--"

Jack cut him off,

"I used to think. I used to feel that was the only way to . . . to, well, complete the picture, you know. A family. Loving wife and children. And that without it, I would never really be. Complete, somehow, always missing out on something."

Daniel sunk back down into his pillow, listening.

"Yeah. I blew my chance on getting that one right, obviously."

Daniel visibly winced at Jack's choice of words. Jack noticed and realized it.

"Ah, well. You know what I mean. But Daniel, the thing is that it never occurred to me that, uh . . ."

He trailed off, finding difficulty placing words to it.

"That what?"

"That_ thing_ you're talking about, damnit."

"Oh. A haven."

"Right. Well it never occurred to me I could ever get it anywhere else other than there. Ever."

Daniel pondered his words. Jack leaned in a little and asked,

"When you come home at night and throw your keys on the counter, what do you start thinking about? Once you unwind from work."

Daniel shrugged.

"Dunno. I read something, or turn on the radio . . ."

"--distractions, mostly. We've got our distractions, our necessities, our work, our play. Then we've got our life. Where we live is what it comes down to. For most people they're either married or married to their job."

Daniel nodded at this.

"Some are drifters or slackoffs and live for their play. A lot of career people live only for their work. Whatever. But we all live _for _something . . ." Jack glanced up at Daniel.

"That's what you're talking about, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're saying the same thing."

"Right. Though work usually isn't ever entirely enough for people, gotta live for individual people too. Some sort of, you know, significant other in your life, either a kid or wife or friend or whatever . . ."

Jack trailed off again, as if further understanding escaped him. So Daniel took the reins and spoke.

"You find that sort of meaning for your life wherever you can."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. They looked at each other in the dying light of the candles. It was Daniel who pushed a little further, asked tentatively.

"Like today...?"

There was that pause, that sweet unbearable pause in which he watched Jack's mind process the words, the series of possible implications and interpretations behind them. Then, resolvedly, he said,

"Yeah."

Daniel wasn't quite sure what it was they had just agreed to. But whatever it was, he felt certain it was a good thing. So he didn't see any reason to worry.

It wasn't long before they both fell asleep.


	15. Way 60 StripaDeeDooDah

_Way #60 -- Strip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah_

"Mmmph," Daniel muttered pleasantly into his pillow. It was a feather pillow with a fresh, clean, white pillow case. It sunk to curve its shape around his head. He sighed and sunk back into peaceful oblivion and wasn't interrupted until a clear, bell-like chime filled his room.

"Come on, breakfast is served. I'm not giving it to you in bed."

_Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_

Daniel groaned and rolled over in bed. Cracking one eye open, he saw the sideways view of Jack standing by the doorway, holding, of all things, a triangle, tapping it with the tiny metal bar over and over, ringing it. Ugh.

"Morning, sunshine. Time to rise and shine. C'mon, up and at 'em." _Ding ding ding ding ding!_

Daniel closed the eye and buried his head under the nice feather pillow, muffling the sound. Jack didn't seem to notice and cheerfully continued to ring the triangle and make chipper suggestions about getting up. Memories drained back into Daniel's waking brain. Oh, yes. Yesterday. The last thing he recalled was . . . a crimp in his neck from sleeping on the floor. Daniel had no idea how long they slept on Jack's living-room floor, but it had not been a good idea. It couldn't have been too long. They woke up in the pitch-dark room, which still smelled faintly of candle-smoke, pain in their bones having overcome their weariness. So they shuffled off to better accommodations, Jack back on the couch and Daniel taking the bed. It seemed like years ago by now, with the morning sunshine creeping through the windows. Hmm, no matter. Plenty of time to sleep in now. After all, today was Sunday, wasn't a work day.

"Daniel, I promised I was going to return the favor with your chores. We have to get going if I'm gonna keep good on that offer." _Ding ding ding ding ding!_

Oh, yeah. Right, they had more chores to do-- damn. Maybe he should . . . oh, screw it. Daniel could always get his chores done next weekend. He wanted to sleep in, damnit.

"Nehhhm. GowayJack," Daniel murbled.

"Oh no, my dear. You'll thank me later for this. You know you'd like to get your chores done right?"

"Mmeeh. Don'tcare."

"Oh-ho. _Now_ you don't care, all cuddled down in there and cozy, but you will a few hours from now. C'mon, have you no self-discipline, Daniel?"

Daniel chuckled suddenly.

"_You're_ lecturing _me_ on self-discipline."

The triangle clanked as Jack put it down none-too-gently.

"I was gonna let you off easy this time, Daniel, with the waking up and all-- you _aren't _being very cooperative. This is your final warning before I switch tactics."

Daniel considered his options. Get up now or be at the mercy of whatever Jack's demented mind could come up with and sleep in for a few more precious minutes? Daniel gazed fuzzily at the window, nose wrinkling at the cold air outside his bed. Then he grunted and rolled over, burying himself deep in blankets and pillows, with a satisfied procrastinator's sigh. Then he did his very best to ignore Jack. It worked for a while, and Daniel felt himself drifting off to sleep again, but just as he was about to, the bed jiggled a little from Jack's weight. A threatening voice floated above him:

"All right, looks to me like you need a little help getting up. Maybe these nice warm blankets are the problem."

The bed jiggled and flopped as Jack jumped off. Daniel felt a tug at his comforter, and felt it slowly being dragged off him. The man groaned in protest, squinting eyes shut and grabbing a fistful of blanket. Yet the quilt continued its slow migration off the bed, and with a few unexpected sharp tugs, went flinging from the bed. Daniel decided it wasn't _that_ major of a loss and was happy with what he had left. Soon he felt Jack pulling at the next layer, though. He grumbled and latched onto the blankets tighter this time, but Jack had a clear leverage advantage over him, and ripped it out from where it was tucked in under the mattress. Daniel felt cooler air enter through his decreased blankets and grumbled discontentedly. Jack said nothing and carried on with the next blanket. Danny had a hold of this one better. He would've been able to keep it if Jack hadn't started twisting the blanket and yanking upwards like that. He heard something fall off Jack's dresser as Jack tossed the blanket across the room. Now there were only the sheets left: Daniel clung resolvedly to these. Pressing his face into the pillow, bracing himself against the mattress, he held against Jack's unfair tug-of-war. Grabbing enough sheet by the corners he wrapped it around his shoulder and rolled on his stomach to twist it around his body, then pressed his weight down on it, squeezing his eyes shut. It worked well for a while. Unfortunately Jack employed deviant and dirty tactics. Leaning close to the floor he yanked on the sheet but it wasn't coming as easily as he'd wanted it to. Jack bared his teeth, his eyes darting about his prey, trying to decide on a tactic of torture, then settled right on target. He flicked his tongue out to lick his lips and then leapt at the foot of the bed, grabbing a leg. He gave the skin behind the knee a sloppy, rough lick and then mashed his face into it, blowing air through his lips to emit ridiculous raspberry sounds. Daniel shrieked in total unexpected shock and then Jack stood up and ripped the sheet off the bed in one clean sweep, spinning Daniel back onto his back.

Glaring furiously up at the man who held the sheet like a trophy, Daniel uttered,

"Bastard."

Jack dangled the sheet in Daniel's face teasingly.

"C'mon Danny, don't you think it's about time you admit defeat?"

Daniel rolled over and stuffed his face back in the pillow. Jack sighed and continued to strip the bed, pulling up the slip cover on the mattress. The stubborn man didn't try to stop Jack anymore, just laid there as if asleep, face buried deep in feather fluff. Jack finally tugged up the last layer of the cotton pad on the mattress and pulled it off without much difficulty. Daniel laid there on a completely bare mattress now, pressed blissfully into the single feather pillow, a happy smile on his face, for he had outsmarted Jack. He'd sleep without _any_ blankets. Jack stood there with his hands on his hips, trying to decide what the next thing to do was.

"Feeling a little drafty, Daniel?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks."

Ooh. The man had such a smug tone in his voice. That set Jack off. He forced his voice to sound tranquil and sweet.

"You still won't get up and I'm going to keep stripping, Daniel."

Daniel chuckled at the absurd threat.

"Go right ahead."

How on Earth could one resist after that invitation? Jack lurched forward on impulse and, sliding his hands into the short legs of Daniel's boxer-shorts, grabbed firm hold of the material in both fists. Daniel's eyes popped open and cautiously sought out Jack's. Once he fell upon those brown eyes he calmed, staring back. Daniel said,

"You wouldn't."

So confidant. So very certain of himself. Jack's legs pressed into the foot of the bed, as if bracing himself, ready for another tug-of-war. He challenged,

"Would I?"

Daniel shifted a little so he was on his back again, the better to stare down Jack's daring gaze.

"No. You wouldn't."

Jack gave a dark little grin and repeated through closed teeth,

"_Would_ I?"

Daniel swallowed. Then Jack pulled. Daniel yelled immediately and instinctively grabbed hold of the elastic waist of the shorts with both hands to keep them up. As a result Daniel slid half-way across the mattress on his butt, pulled along by Jack. His attacker froze a moment.

"Jack."

"You getting up from bed?"

Daniel frowned, narrowed his eyes.

"_No."_

"I can drag you off," Jack said, tone clearly stating that was exactly what he planned on doing. Shit, he wasn't bluffing. Jack began pulling again and Daniel yelped, twisting around to try and lose Jack's grip. Jack twisted with him to stay on. With a kick Daniel pushed himself further back up the slick mattress and used one hand to hold on tight to the top side of the mattress, the other hand around the elastic waist. Jack forced him back on his back and then began pulling, hard--

"_Aaaaieeeeyeeeei!"_ Daniel gurgled urgently, as the boxer-shorts warped and twisted, being held on only by the tenuous grip of one of Daniel's hands, while he barely clung to the head of the mattress with another hand.

"Cheating! This isn't fair!" Daniel managed to squeak out, as he tugged furiously, trying to get more boxer material in his single fist, learning that one hand was _not _enough to keep things upright. Jack indeed had a total leverage advantage, both feet planted firmly on the floor.

Jack paused mid-pull, as he realized this, and stared down into Daniel's eyes again.

"You surrender?"

Daniel grumbled unhappily at the suggestion. Jack's eyes casually lowered, face twisting into a smirk at the twisted, wrinkled state of the man's undergarment, still barely held on, indeed, most of the man's butt having slid out, now pressed against the mattress.

"Yes! Get off me!" Daniel snapped. Jack grinned as Daniel released the mattress, used both hands to tug hard to pull the pants back up, kicking with his feet to push Jack away.

"It's your own fault," Jack pointed out to him. Daniel was sitting up on the mattress, in his t-shirt and wrinkled boxers, looking up at his tormentor.

"How's that, again?"

"I_ told_ you I was going to. You said to go ahead."

"True." Daniel paused to think. An idea floated to his mind.

"I'm locking the door next time."

"Might be a wise precaution."

Jack turned to leave the bedroom and said over his shoulder,

"You better hurry up if you don't want breakfast getting cold."

Daniel sighed.

"Yes, _mother._"


	16. Way 65 Heartstrings

_Way #65 -- Heartstrings_

Sitting with his back against the tree, Daniel was deeply absorbed in his notebook, scrawling away at a steady pace with his pen. His handwriting was neat and compact, in straight rows across the sheet. The notebook was ring-bound and a nice handheld size, around 7/10 inches, with a heavy green card-board cover and well worn pages, a little more than halfway filled up with notes. He took notebooks everywhere with him during field work, so it was a familiar sight to everyone. He had equipment that was a little more advanced, too, of course-- tape recorders and video cameras and the likes. But there was just something about pen and paper that felt so crucial to Daniel. He was never caught without a notebook or two in his pack. He enjoyed doing sketches of individual objects, and overall maps of entire areas, and even pencil-rubbings of certain impressions. Mostly, though, he enjoyed writing. There was something about the process that simply went hand-in-hand with his thinking. When Dr. Jackson wrote, his notes took on an importance, a useful perspective that he couldn't normally tap into while speaking. Thoughts simply flowed so smoothly from his mind to the paper this way.

Dr. Jackson also had the tendency to become oblivious to the outside world when he was lost in his own internal one. At times it could be a problem-- especially in situations that tended to be conducive to hazards-- but usually it was an asset, owing to his wonderful ability to focus. After all, if he lacked this talent, it would have been extremely difficult to do half of the things he _did_ do, translating texts as Jaffa weapon fire roared above his head, his comrades screaming at him to hurry up, while he calmly explained he was going as fast as was humanly possible. Thus it ended up as mostly a blessing-- and worked out pretty good when he had his military-minded friends to look out for the 'danger' parts of the missions. It was one of the reasons SG-1 worked so well. Everyone did their own job, and they did it well.

A breeze rustled through the trees and set a couple orange leaves spinning down towards the ground, gliding by Daniel's notebook unnoticed. It was beautiful here. He was up on a small hill overlooking the temporary camp-site of his team, fallen leaves and grass among him on the ground. This was their third day on this world, and this particular hill had become a favorite perching spot of Daniel, when he had retired from work for the day to take his notes in a peaceful environment. The work on this world had been particularly enjoyable. There was a large expanse of ruins to study but no signs of current-day sentient life forms anywhere. Truth be told, as exciting as ethnography could be at times, Daniel was an archeologist before anything else-- it was his specialty and he simply did tend to study cultures that were long dead rather than walking around and trying to shoot at him. Or proclaim him a God, or whatever the circumstance. It was what he did best, and it felt good to sink his teeth into a new mystery, unraveling the secrets of yet another world, that had no doubt been transplanted from long ago by the interfering and meddlesome species of the Goa'uld. As evil as those creatures were at heart, as undoubtedly damaging they were to the universe, and as singularly terrible they were to everyone's existence-- at least, at the very least, there occasionally could be some good taken from that existence. Because these cultures discovered, dug up, and transplanted across the galaxy were so . . . awe-inspiring. The Goa'uld seeded dozens of planets, probably far more. True, they were for entirely self-serving reasons, to raise human beings as slave-laborers, as miners, as bodies to infect and infest. But these experiments, despite being performed for malevolent reasons, were nevertheless performed. And the unpredictable results of such experiments sometimes turned out to be pretty surprising, even positive. The cultures the Goa'uld abandoned as failed experiments often would go on to develop thriving societies on whole new worlds. It was simply inevitable that good would often spring from those seeds. And treasured societies that were thought long lost, as entirely dead, had been given a surprise second chance. A second chance that Daniel himself got to explore and experience the end results of.

So, for this, Daniel was thankful. And for this, Daniel was hopeful. It made his efforts worthwhile, at times. In the very least, he knew he was doing some good in the overall picture, despite not knowing whether or not he'd be able to sway the tide of inter-galactic politics. He was doing his part, and he knew he was bringing good to the world-- to _worlds_-- and that was something to be pleased with. Very pleased with.

A shadow fell over Daniel's notebook and he glanced up, a little startled at being brought out of his rudiments. He blinked up at Sam's friendly expression.

"Hi," Sam greeted.

"Hi," Daniel returned, patting the ground next to him in invitation. Sam gladly took a seat and easily leaned against the large tree trunk along with him.

"The Colonel's packing up. I _was_ helping him, but he kept complaining about every little thing I was doing wrong. He gets so _grouchy_ when the General pulls rank."

Daniel smiled faintly and continued to write at a slower pace in his notebook.

"So I thought it would probably be best if I steered clear of his temper tantrum."

"Probably a wise idea," Daniel agreed. Sam gave a small, voiceless laugh and shook her head, then looked at Daniel.

"Honestly, Daniel. I don't understand him sometimes."

Daniel looked at her and asked, _"Sometimes?"_

She grinned at him.

"He didn't even want to be here in the first place. Now he's pissed that Hammond's making us leave early."

"Yeah, well, that's Jack for you," Daniel said wisely, looking back to his book to scribble more.

"So he just likes to hear himself complain."

Daniel chuckled. "That's probably part of it, yeah."

Sam folded her arms behind her neck and leaned back, sighing contentedly.

"I don't mind leaving early, seems to me that we have no reason to stay any longer. We've determined this place is totally abandoned. Why not let the anthropology team take over? It _is _their job."

"Mm-hm."

"It is nice here, though, I've got to admit. One of the more pleasant planets we've been on in . . . well. What seems like forever."

Daniel nodded his assent. He commented, "Should add it to Jack's top ten list of places to retire."

She smiled. "Yeah, just add a lake to this place and he's got it made."

Then she turned suddenly, inquiring of Daniel,

"You really think that's the reason he's mad? Because he'd rather take it easy here for a few more days?"

Daniel looked at her with amusement and observed,

"He _is_ about due for another fishing trip."

"I'll bet he's jealous you get to stay here longer and we have to leave."

Daniel looked thoughtful.

"Well he does get angry every time Hammond breaks SG-1 up, even when it's brief."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. He's afraid somebody will like how you work on a different team. That somebody might try to sneak in and steal you from us."

"Then in that case I guess I'm flattered," Daniel smiled, turning back to his notebook.

A mischievous smile overcame Carter. She leaned forward a little and prodded,

"So what's this I hear about what happened this weekend. The Colonel mentioned something about you guys spending the whole time together?"

"Uh."

"He wouldn't say anything else. Just that it was very educational."

"Educational?" Daniel raised his brows.

"Mm-hmm."

Daniel snorted.

"All we did was tackle a list of chores a mile-long."

"Ah. I see."

"Though I can see how that might be a novel concept to him."

"Mmm?"

Daniel wrinkled his nose at her.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"No reason. Just . . ."

"What?" He looked at her sternly. She grinned a little.

"Teal'c and I left you in a funny position is all. You guys find my note?"

"Ah. Yes . . . Jack says you owe him one living-room clean-up."

"He's always one to carry petty grudges," Sam pouted.

"He just doesn't forget easily."

"I see. Have a memorable weekend then?"

Daniel paused, mulling his lower lip a moment.

"We did," he admitted.

Sam looked surprised her prodding had hit an admission so soon, and flashed Daniel a cheerful smile.

"That's good. I, ah." She laughed, "I think I'll go see if he's calmed down enough for me to help."

Daniel nodded at her.

"Okay. Be careful."

She laughed and got up.

"I will. You coming?"

Daniel shook his head.

"Want to finish this. I won't be much longer."

"All right. Have fun."

She moved as if to take off down the small hill. Turning about she came back the way she came and leaned over Daniel, asking him in a stage-whisper,

"So what did you guys do?"

Daniel rolled his eyes.

"I told you already. We did chores."

"That's it?"

"Goodbye, Sam."

"Aaaw, Daniel . . ."

_"Goodbye." _

She gave an annoyed sniff and said in mock irritation,

"Goodbye, _Dan._"

She turned and left but the residual smirk belayed all. Daniel sighed and went back to writing in his notebook, trying to ignore her nosiness as best he could.

It was around 1600 hours when the team finished packing. They were due to return soon, and the planet's pale blue sun was waning in the sky towards late afternoon. Daniel had finished his note-taking but had fallen into a comfortable state and remained in his spot, reluctant to leave, despite knowing it would be temporary. Boot-steps crunched up the hill to Daniel's tree and a shadow once again was cast over the open notebook in Daniel's lap. But the pen was resting beside the notebook, and Daniel's head was slumped against the tree, having dozed off.

Jack leaned down into a crouch. He put a hand gently on Daniel's shoulder and said,

"Hey."

Daniel stirred a little but didn't wake. Jack sighed, reluctant to wake him, knowing he was probably tired after all their labor over the weekend. Something drew his gaze downwards to the notebook in Daniel's lap. He battled a moment between curiosity and morality, but couldn't resist a little snooping-- the archaeologist was _always _scribbling away furiously in that notebook of his. Jack picked it up delicately and read the page it was open on.

It wasn't that personal, mostly just a series of detailed descriptions and half-finished hypothesizeses, the sort of notes that would make more sense to the author himself, than anyone else. Jack scanned through it and then something caught his attention, in the right-hand margin. It was a small sketch, quite detailed and well-done, of a leaf. Jack recognized it as the orange ones that were falling from the alien trees here. They had been a simple spade-shape, as Jack thought of them, but the sketch oriented the leaf so its stem pointed skywards. The caption etched beneath it read;

_Deciduous forests are losing their foliage,_

_appears to be early autumn here. Sometimes I think it's_

_a shame when the original names of plants and animals _

_by the natives are lost . . .No doubt they named everything_

_as is such a strong instinct in human nature. _

_Saw these leaves and had strange notion that the natives _

_named them Phoenixhearts. To transform from green to_

_bright orange, then turn to dust only to be reborn in the_

_spring from their ashes. But I do read too much mythology after all. _

_Or 'fairy-tales', as Jack calls them._

The spade-shaped leaf did in fact resemble a perfect heart when pointed in that direction. Jack hovered uncomfortably over the last line that had referred to him, reminded of their past arguments. He decided he'd done enough snooping and carefully set the notebook back down in Daniel's lap. The man was still dozing softly and peacefully against the tree, glasses slid down the bridge of his nose in an endearing manner. Who could wake a man like that? Jack usually had no trouble doing so and extracted a great deal of pleasure from it. This time it felt wrong, though, as if it would simply be . . . sacrilegious to interrupt such serenity. In any rude way, at least.

Jack sunk down to sit on the ground beside Daniel, having become lost in his thoughts as he watched his friend. He studied his face, the lines and creases each so familiar to him, so well drawn in Jack's memory. He knew he could picture him perfectly if he closed his eyes. The spray of blond hair that trickled down his forehead at an odd angle, dancing in the light alien breeze. Mm, Jack became fixated on this point. It floated so hypnotically, like a little dandelion poof. He reached out and smoothed it back, momentarily surprised at how soft it felt. He ran his fingertips along further to smooth out the bedraggled hairs, and became lost in how _nice_ that was. Delicately, he stroked the hairs each back into place, like petting a shy animal. He hummed low in delight without meaning to,

"Mmm . . ."

Blue eyes fluttered open, though Jack was first oblivious to that. He let his fingertips drag just along the scalp, raking gently through the short blond hair. The sensation was surprisingly fantastic. Jack's eyes drifted to Daniel's gaze, finally becoming aware he was awake by now.

"Hello," Jack said calmly, clearly still in a happy daze.

"If this is one of your waking methods please don't cut things short on my account," Daniel answered, in a slightly drowsy slur, sounding very . . . hmm. Pleased. A new tone for Jack's ears, one he was pretty sure he liked hearing. Jack continued to rake through the blond head with one hand, feathery tresses slipping through his fingers in a slow, delicious pace. Daniel practically purred. Jack leaned in a little, feeling his heart pounding in his chest, and drawled at him,

"Spacemonkey likes that huuh? . . ."

"Yes he does," Daniel replied in a whisper, his eyes sliding shut and forehead tilting forward. Jack responded to the body language and let his forehead tilt forward a little so they both touched. He thrilled gazing at Daniel's eyelids for some reason, just happy in the moment that he'd caused Daniel to shut them. Daniel's tongue twitched out and licked his lips, and he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Jack slid forward a little and nudged his nose against Daniel's affectionately, mashing his against Daniel like he'd done when he hugged him before. Daniel returned the nuzzle, which was enough pleasure for Jack to shut his eyes as well. Daniel nudged little more and Jack felt a small pressure on his lips. Not stopping to think about it at all, he returned the pressure, and felt himself pulling in the most delightfully curved, lovely flesh. He had to feel more and let the tip of his tongue trace them-- they quivered under him at the touch and then parted. Jack dipped in casually, as if only out for an innocent stroll, and happened to run into his partner's tongue along the way. Entirely accidental, it was. Daniel was a shy neighbor though, darting off to stroke the territory of Jack's own lips teasingly. Jack smiled and nudged forward slightly, pulling more of Daniel's lips inside, making open-mouthing a more accessible activity. Daniel appreciated this and shared his appreciation, eagerly darting into Jack. Skipping the small talk about the weather, the two neighbors met in a long, full bodied stroke. Oh, this was good, Jack decided, this was definitely good.

In fact, they decided it was a good idea to continue the exercise, without pause. Yes, they definitely should continue doing that. Jack heard the blood speeding past his ears and just as his hands were reaching up to feel more of his partner, to manipulate, God, to do something, anything-- they both were startled by an ear-splitting sound right on top of them, jolting in shock.

The walkie-talkie attached to Jack's vest was crackling like a fire-breathing demon and out came Sam's garbly voice,

_Hey guys, I thought it was time to move out. What's the hold up, __Hammond__'s going to get antsy if we hang around much longer. Let's hustle on back._

Blinking and breathing heavy, they both took a moment to regain their bearings, looking at each other almost as if confused. Daniel was still sitting with his back to the tree, and Jack was on his knees staring back. Finally Carter's harshly-delivered message sunk into their brains. Jack reached jerkily for his walkie and depressed the button.

"Aaah . . . Carter. I read you. Was just waking Danny up. You know how the boy likes to doze off on the job. We're marching right back to camp now, so tell Hammond to hold his horses."

He released the button. His eyes never left Daniel's as they both sat and waited for her response. Around five seconds later,

_All right. We'll be waiting for you._

Jack exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding, sinking down on his knees and then wincing for doing so. He and Daniel both looked at each other's general disheveled demeanor. Jack couldn't help it. He had to laugh.

"That, uh, that-- that wasn't actually part of my original plan. Just so you know."

Daniel smiled faintly at him. He spoke slowly,

"So it doesn't count . . . does that make it eligible for a future wake-up call?"

Jack took a moment to process that and then grinned maniacally.

"You're quick to pick up on the rules. I like that."

"Thank you."

They stared some more, neither one making a move to get up, though both looking with rather raw and and needing gazes.

"Jack," Daniel said in one of his warning tones.

"What?"

"We've got to leave."

"I know."

"…_Now."_

"I _know."_

Nobody moved. Jack looked about ready to jump on Daniel when Carter's voice crackled through again,

_Colonel, Daniel. SGC just gave us a call. They're getting a little impatient. _

"All right!" Jack yelled at Sam, though he hadn't bothered to actually depress the walkie button for it. Jack got to his feet and offered a hand to help Daniel up. Daniel hesitated.

"Uh maybe it would be better if you--"

Jack laughed a little and cut him off,

"Come on, Daniel, you're not going to--"

Jack snapped his jaw shut when he realized what he saying was _stupid_, because Daniel sure as Hell looked like he was going to. Unless Jack started moving. Now.

He turned around immediately and started walking back to camp, saying shortly,

"Don't forget your notebook."

Daniel looked at the ground in surprise because he_ had_ forgotten about his notebook (which he never did). He picked it up, tucking it under an arm, then stood up to follow Jack back to camp.

**A/N**: Do not fear, loyal readers. I will follow up with the next post very soon. Thanks for all your support. :)


	17. Way 66 Dance

_Way #66 -- Dance_

He parked across the street from the apartment buildings. His hand went to the glove box and removed the small object from within, and sat hunched over in the driver's seat, peering out the window, waiting. The sky was a deep, dark blue from the just rising run, cloudless but cold. The air had a still, sharp bite to it, frost clinging to the apartment lawns and parked cars. It was quiet, the sort of silence that early morning demanded from the world-- the type of ungodly hour most people wouldn't be caught dead stirring in. A figure across the street was walking along the sidewalk at a slow pace. A hand adjusted the car rear-view mirror and a pair of brown eyes followed the figure's movements. The figure reached the black iron fence of the apartment building and rifled through his pockets for his key-card. Once he inserted the card and the gate buzzed open, our man made his move.

After exchanging some small talk with the gardener/groundskeeper at Petal Falls Apartment Buildings-- Jack was on a first-name basis with 'George' and told him they needed to get together again sometime-- he easily made his way through the rows of apartment buildings, climbing the stairs, making a bee-line for his familiar point of entry. He pulled his extra key out of his pants-pocket and inserted it _slowly_ into the door. The key withdrew and went back into the pocket-- the doorknob turned easily and the door opened silently. Jack had already brought some WD-40 and done the door-joints since the last time he'd snuck into here anyway. Slipping inside, he found his way easily through the apartment. Everything was clean and tidy here, all the lights snapped off, the dim morning light barely coming through the windows. The two of them did a good job cleaning last weekend. Down the hall, second door on the left, Jack entered the bedroom with an almost casual ease.

It was Friday morning. Jack's eyes swept around the bedroom, taking in the familiar sights, the little gears in his head ticking as he mapped out the last details of his simple scheme. Daniel was dead asleep, the alarm clock on his nightstand reading _5:25_, still quite a ways off from when his alarm was due to go off. Jack left the bedroom and came back a few minutes later, carefully carrying a boom-box he stole from the living room and setting it down on the dresser and plugging it into the wall socket. He pressed a button and the CD-holder popped open. Taking the precious object from his pocket, a CD case, he opened it and inserted the CD. He set the boom-box to CD mode and then twisted the volume knob up, up, and up, grinning with glee, until it reached maximum volume. He stood back a little, glancing from the box to the bed, adjusted it a little so the speakers were pointing just right. Yes, perfect. He looked at the sleeping figure a moment and pondered, then as a last detail, crept over and shut the bedroom door.

As Jack turned around to face the bedroom, and his peacefully sleeping friend, his mind flashed back to memories from yesterday.

_"Hey, sir. You headed home?"_

_Jack looked up from closing his locker door._

_"Yeah. That's what people do at the end of the day, Carter."_

_The woman, still in her fatigues and clearly still in work-mode, shuffled a little and smiled at him._

_"I'm helping them finish running the new total diagnosis program on the computer systems."_

_"I thought those programs were designed for-- and correct me if I'm wrong, Major-- diagnosing and fixing things_ for_ you."_

_"Well, they are."_

_Jack smiled and shook his head._

_"Right. Have fun, Carter. See you tomorrow."_

_"Yessir, thanks. I will."_

_Jack started to leave the locker-room, and Carter continued walking down the corridor hall, but then he said,_

_"Ah, Carter."_

_She turned and asked,_

_"Yeah?" _

_He hesitated a moment. She looked at him expectantly. He finally replied,_

_"Ah. Any news of how SG-12 are doing?"_

_She settled in her stance and gave a little nod._

_"They're . . . doing well, sir. Appear to be very pleased. They think it'll only take a few weeks. Working in shifts . . . so Daniel will be able to go home tonight, around __7:00__ . . ."_

_"Mm. I see." Jack nodded absent-mindedly._

_"So really he's only with the team part-time. The General thinks he'll probably be able to divide his time between SG-12 and 1 next week if nothing unexpected crops up."_

_Jack straightened up, as if snapping out of a daze._

_"Right. Just wondering. Thanks-- ah, say good-night to Danny for me if you see him, then. I guess I'll see you all tomorrow then."_

_Sam stifled a smile. _

_"I will."_

_Jack waved and smiled,_

_"Adú," and turned to walk down the corridor._

It had ended kind of suddenly, was all. After SG-1 had left that planet for the day, Daniel was busy with SG-12 and then was gone. Jack was stuck in his office brushing up on paperwork for the rest of the day. Which he obviously ignored and instead spent the time in his quiet, empty office thinking about a certain blond-headed, bespeckled archaeologist. Needless to say, it wasn't the most comfortable paperwork session in his career.

That had been Thursday night. Jack didn't want to wait until he got back to the SGC. He'd see Daniel again, give some brief hellos, ask about the weather on that nifty orange-treed planet, and then SG-12 would be off again doing their own thing. There was no room in there to talk to the man about anything serious. Obviously; and Jack could have just waited one more day for that, when they were both off work. After all, it was _Friday_. But last night when Jack got home, he had a lot of time to think. And pace. The more he thought about it the more he became convinced, even though it was just one more day, he didn't want to do it. It was terribly short-sighted and impatient of him but the idea was intolerable. Sitting through the whole work day, twiddling his thumbs, trying to keep his mind focused on work. While SG-12 happily worked away on that other planet. God. Heck no. Then Jack got a brilliant idea. Drive down to Daniel's house Friday morning to pull one of his waking-up sessions. It seemed perfect.

At least, when Jack had drifted off to sleep last night, in his insomniac delirium, it seemed like a perfect plan. Standing here now in the harshly early morning, in the quiet bedroom, it felt very different. Jack didn't feel so confidant anymore about his brilliant scheme. Was it really going to accomplish anything? Probably not. Hell, he didn't know. It was a clever little thing to add to his list, but-- but, oh. Jack exhaled. He looked down at his hands and realized they were shaking. He stared at them in disbelief. What-- why was he shaking, what was wrong with him? He chuckled a little, quietly, nervously, at himself. He wasn't really that nervous was he? The thought was ludicrous. Nothing scared him. Jack had been through Hell and back enough times to have ten bumper-stickers from the place slapped to his butt. He delivered shots with an aim as smooth as steel and as sleek and accurate as the day he began. His hands never shook. Jack stuffed them in his pants pockets. He paced a little in the bedroom.

He wasn't nervous, no. Not about the practical joke. A three-year old could pull it off. (in fact his own three-year old had done so on occasion) No it wasn't that, it was about deeper thoughts running through his brain, mostly though, about those deeper thoughts running through _Daniel's _brain. He didn't know what was going on with that. Things had taken quite a speedy turn of events yesterday. A fluke, a freak occurrence, something in the light? Some sort of flighty notion from too much alien air? Perhaps a waking fantasy, an illusion of the mind? Had it even _happened?_ Well of course it had. Jack wasn't off his rocker just yet. He could tell reality from fantasy still. Jack nodded to himself as if to reaffirm that. Yeah, it had been real, but that then brought an immediate second question to mind: _why?!_

Jack spun on his heel to face the bed. Did that really matter right now? They'd discuss it eventually and what the Hell it was. There was nothing wrong with holding off talking. Heck, they didn't even need to talk, did they? He didn't know the rules on these sorts of situations. "Sorry, it was an accident." Jack grinned at the stupid notion. Yeah. _Accident._ Sure. He really was trying to convince himself of that. Just as he really was trying to convince himself that now, when he gazed down at the man sleeping, that funny fluttery feeling dancing in his throat was just-- nothing. Ugh. Sure. Nothing.

Jack's brows knitted into a glare. Daniel looked so light and relaxed. Without a care in the world. As if he weren't plagued with all the twisting confusing thoughts that turned knots in Jack's throat just now. Wasn't he just as confused or did he know exactly what was going on? The man didn't seem too terribly concerned. He was calm enough to sleep like a baby, anyway. He wasn't tossing and turning like Jack had all night. Jack's scowl deepened. So. Danny-boy had no troubles. He went to work, did a little research on a bunch of old rocks, macked with his co-worker a bit, went home and went to bed. That's how it was, huh? _Fine._ Jack could accept that. If it really didn't mean anything to the man, then _fine._ It didn't. It was no big deal anyway.

"Right," Jack murmured angrily, agreeing with himself. Jack could live with that. He felt his hands quivering inside his pockets again with agitation. No problem, Jack didn't care, but if he was gonna accept that, then he full-well was going to enjoy his rights to torment Daniel at every chance he got. Oh yes, because he wasn't_ finished_ yet with his waking sessions, and he wasn't about to cut them short now. Just on account of _him_.

Jack stalked over to the boom box and picked up the remote-control. The wonders of modern technology. Then he approached the foot of Daniel's bed. The man was still sleeping peacefully on his side, arms hugging a lump of blankets. Jack removed his shoes and set them aside. Then, _carefully_, he climbed up on the foot of the bed, making sure he shifted the new weight slowly onto the mattress and not disturb its dozing occupant. He stood up to his full height. He looked down upon the man.

Standing here now, another memory came to Jack, unbidden.

_"Does that make it eligible for a future wake-up call?"_

He could see Daniel's expression as he said it, slight curve of a smile, mostly an ambiguous expression, a somewhat hopeful and a somewhat flirting tone in his voice. But what he had _meant_ by that was still uncertain. Jack could not assume. There was no way of knowing right now.

The man half-turned to gaze at the boom-box sitting on the dresser. Then he decided. To Hell with it. The best things happened when Jack threw caution to the wind and just acted his own stupid self. It's what he did best, after all. And it was what he knew.

Jack turned to face his audience and aimed the remote at the radio. He pressed 'play' and the CD whirred to life in the machine. The music started up with a jaunty beat, and Jack casually flung the remote away. Daniel stirred in bed, clearly dazed and confused, as Jack just stood there during the opener.

YOU BROKE MY HEART . . .

CAUSE I COULDN'T DANCE . . .

YOU DIDN'T EVEN WANT ME AROUND.

AND NOW I'M BACK TO LET YOU KNOW . . .

I CAN REALLY SHAKE IT DOWN NOW.

Daniel blinked, having finally achieved consciousness at that moment, peering up at the man towering above him, mouth curved into a question he hadn't quite spoken yet. The hammering chorus began.

OH, DO YOU LOVE ME? I CAN REALLY MOVE . . .

OH DO YOU LOVE ME? I'M IN THE GROOVE . . .

DO YOU LOVE ME? DO YOU LOVE ME?

NOOOOW THAT IIIIII CAN DAAAANCE . . . .

WATCH ME NOW!

Jack grinned and then began to jump. Hard. He flung himself full-force on the mattress, doing what he could to not entirely step on the sleeping man, applying his full weight to achieve maximum bounce. Blankets went flying and Daniel gave some started yelps.

HEY! WORK IT, OH WORK IT OUT BAYBUH!

WORK IT, WORK IT, WELL YOU'RE DRIVIN' ME CRAZUH,

WORK IT, WORK IT, JUST A LITTLE BIT OF SOUL NOW.

The speakers of the boom-box truly did deliver a high performance, blasting the little bedroom like a jackhammer gone mad. No doubt the entire apartment complex and probably the complex across the street could hear every lyric and beat. Daniel eyes had gone wide at the excruciating volume and the sudden earth-quake the madman was creating on his bed.

I CAN MASH POTATO, I CAN MASH POTATO

I CAN DO THE TWIST, I CAN DO THE TWIST

NOW TELL ME BABY, TELL ME BABY--

DO YOU LIKE IT LIKE THIS? DO YA LIKE IT LIKE THIS?

TELL ME, TELL ME, TELL ME . . .

"Whoo!" Jack hollered, clapping his hands, and only now was Daniel regaining enough of his senses to try and respond somehow. Mostly he was looking shocked out of his sockets and mad as a hatter. And he wasn't sure which one was the stronger of the two. He tried to sit upright as Jack bounced on his bed. Jack inhaled deep and sang along with the chorus at the top of his lungs, dancing like a bouncy lunatic:

DO YOU LOVE ME, DO YOU LOVE ME

DO YOU LOVE ME, DO YOU LOVE ME

DO YOU LOVE ME, DO YOU LOVE ME

NOW THAT I CAN DANCE, DANCE, DANCE . . .

WATCH ME NOW!

HEY! WORK IT, WORK IT

OH SHAKE IT UP, SHAKE IT UP

WORK IT, WORK IT (OH SHAKE IT, SHAKE IT UP!)

WORK IT, WORK IT (OH A LITTLE BIT OF SOUL NOW)

WORK IT, WORK IT (GETTIN' TO ME BABY)

WORK IT, WORK IT (OH YOU'RE DRIVIN' ME CRAZY)

WORK IT, WORK IT (OH DON'T GET LAZY)

_"JACK!!!!!"_ Daniel screamed over the overwhelming noise, though his voice was hardly discernable through it all. Jack grinned insanely and yelled, "C'MON DANNY, DANCE!", bounce-BOUNCING along, the springs on the mattress giving a few creaky shouts of protest at their abuse. Jack had one of the blankets and was waving it around with him as he danced, twirling it and slapping it like a bullwhip. Daniel was trying to get up without falling flat on his face, which was easier said than done. "_Jaaaack!"_ he wailed angrily, and Jack cackled with evil glee, spinning around, getting into the music.

DO YOU LOVE ME? DO YOU LOVE ME?

DO YOU LOVE ME? DO YOU LOVE ME?

I SAID DO YOU LOVE ME? DO YOU LOVE ME?

NOOOOOW THAT IIIIII CAN DAAAAANCE . . .

HEY! WORK IT, WORK IT, OH WORK IT OUT BABY

WORK IT, WORK IT, WELL YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY

WORK IT, WORK IT, OH DON'T YA GET LAZY

WORK IT, WORK IT . . .

"Aaaaaaaaaaauuuuuughhhh!"

That scream had come from the archaeologist's throat, as Jack had noticed his struggles at trying to get up and gave him a hand. Grabbing his arms he'd pulled him up and 'helped him' jump along with him on the bed, still bellowing the lyrics, holding on tight to both Daniel's arms/shoulders, while Daniel squirmed and they both slipped and tripped on the tangled blankets on his bed.

OH I'VE HAD IT BABY

WORK IT, WORK IT

WELL YOU'RE MAKING ME CRAZY

WORK IT, WORK IT

OH DON'T GET LAZY . . .

The lyrics petered off into instruments, there were a few nice taps on the base string, and then the song exploded into a sudden ending.

Then it was quiet.

This had been exactly as Jack had planned, of course, having burned a CD with only that single song on it. The bedroom fell into instant silence and all was still. For a while, nobody said or did anything. The two men stood frozen, standing on the messed-up bed, a twisted blanket tangled between the two of them, Jack still holding Daniel's arm and shoulder. Eventually Daniel turned his eyes to the man next to him. Jack gave his friend an innocent smile.

"Shall we go for an encore?"

Daniel was speechless at first but it didn't take too long for the anger to seep into his face. His grip tightened around Jack's arms (which he'd been wrestling with to try and get free) and he snarled,

"You . . ._ eeeedeeeyot!"_

Jack snorted and started giggling at how that sounded, but Daniel shook him angrily and continued in a tirade,

"What is wrong with you?! You have any idea what _time_ it is?! Did you follow me _home_ for this--were you waiting in my fucking _closet _or something?! No, no-no, wait, don't tell me-- I don't want to know, I don't even want to _know_ what you went through. I just can't believe you're--"

He paused, infuriated, unable to find the right word, sputtering,

"You're--you're--"

Jack was just standing there watching Daniel expectantly. He asked calmly,

"Yes?"

Daniel exhaled in a sudden burst, sounding like a snorting bronco.

"I don't know _what_ you are, you're so psychopathic. You stepped on me you know, you could've killed me or given me a goddamn head injury or something--"

"--come on now give me some credit, I never would've done that--"

"You think this is funny huh? Jack I thought the idea was you wouldn't be jumping on me anymore--"

"And I DIDN'T! I jumped _near_ you, not on you! That totally counts!"

"WhatEVER! That doesn't matter! The point is that--" Daniel gaze shifted a moment.

"How the heck did you even get _in_ here?!"

"Uh. I have a key to your apartment, remember?"

Daniel huffed,

"Oh, yeah. Back when I thought I was passing keys out to close friends and not raving _lunatics._ There's still a gate you know, I didn't buzz you in."

"Mr. Brently let me in," Jack answered.

"Humph. Remind me to strike him off my Christmas card list in that case."

They fell quiet for a few beats, Daniel still staring at Jack like he could burn holes into his head with his glare. Jack let him glare for a while, counting his blessings, especially for the fact that looks _couldn't_ kill, as far as he knew. Then when he felt he'd waited the proper amount of time, Jack smirked very slightly.

"I totally got you, you realize."

Daniel gripped him again threateningly, yanking his face close, growling,

"Oh you think so? Jack you acted like a complete and utter asshole."

"But it was funny."

"No, it was not."

"Yeah it was."

"It WASN'T."

Jack bobbed his head a little.

"Not even a_ little_ funny? C'mon, you have to admit it was a _little_ funny."

"There's no way I'm saying that because it wasn't even a little funny!"

"Oh, come on, Danny. Even you have to admit to it. You were totally gobsmacked."

"Yes, by the idiot jumping on my bed!"

Jack nodded,

"Exactly! You realize the priceless expression that is?"

Daniel went into a quiet glare as he thought about this. Jack could practically see Daniel re-playing the tape in his head of the events that had occurred in that past fifteen minutes. When he was done his gaze shifted back to Jack, with something new in his eyes.

"I can't believe how crazy you are."

That was said in a slightly calmer tone, so Jack was certain he was making progress somewhere. Daniel continued,

"And I can't believe that I still can't believe it. After all the stunts you've pulled you'd think I'd be used to it by now. Expect it from you."

He paused. His angry grip loosened. He got that distant look again as if thinking.

"You scared the shit out of me. Out of all the things you've done this was one of the more disturbing. Except maybe for that jungle planet we were on."

Jack's smirk grew a little at that but he didn't interrupt Daniel's out-loud pondering. He could see the man's heart rate slowing, his muscles finally relaxing after the panic attack. The chemicals of adrenaline still running through his system, though not so bad anymore. He let his death-grip on Jack go slack. He stared into those hazel eyes.

"You really are an asshole," Daniel informed him seriously, trying to do so with a straight face. His face twitched as the smile tried to surface. Jack nodded solemnly.

"Yes, I know. I've been told. By many people."

"Yeah? Well I'm telling you too." Daniel agreed. He bit a lower lip as his mouth twitched.

"How much of an asshole?" Jack asked, in a tone that sounded honestly curious. Daniel wrinkled his nose and brows, straining to keep a straight face. He answered somberly,

"The biggest one I know."

"Oh? You're not just saying that?"

Daniel shook his head.

"No, I mean it. I really do."

Jack kept neutral and obediently quiet. He said,

"Okay."

Daniel stared tensely at him. Jack let his gaze drop and his voice lower, batting his eyes jokingly,

"It _was_ funny, though, wasn't it?"

He brought his gaze back up to Daniel to expect the reply. The look in the man's eyes shifted like a storm, and Jack could feel the change instantly, the subtleties in stance and expression. Daniel licked his lips subconsciously, eyes glanced over where Jack still held an arm and shoulder, following back up to his face. Jack's fingers twitched at their forgotten positions. Jack almost jumped in surprise when Daniel spoke, not having expected it-- Daniel's voice sounded slightly heavier and slower now.

"You had an interesting selection of music."

"Uhm--" Jack swallowed when his voice didn't work right the first time,

"Did you like it?"

A sort of subtle smile crossed Daniel's face, one Jack wasn't used to seeing.

"I think it suits you."

Jack grinned a little at that. It was contagious and Daniel couldn't resist smiling wider.

"You know you're cute when you're angry?" Jack asked, in such an open and unabashed manner.

Daniel gave a "pssshh!" at that, and Jack raised his brows, as if saying _Don't give me that, I'm serious. _Daniel stared for a beat and replied impulsively,

"You know you're cute when you're an asshole?"

Jack gave him a thrilled grin, having never expected to hear that. He answered honestly,

"I didn't know I was to you."

For whatever the reason, that was Daniel's breaking point. He growled,

"Come here," reaching up and grabbing a fistful of Jack's t-shirt, pulling him into a kiss. Jack eagerly reciprocated and allowed his still grip on Daniel to finally roam freely, stroking flesh wherever he found it. Daniel pressed hard into Jack's chest, kissing him aggressively. Jack's eyes rolled under their closed lids and he moaned, overwhelmed at how forward and aggressive Daniel was. He stroked Daniel's arms and chest urgently, feeling out of his mind, so damn nuts, he-- he had to break off the kiss and pant crazily for air, feeling his head boil over with fuzziness at his hyperventilating. Dr. Jackson wouldn't allow for that, however, pulling at Jack with surprising strength (that he didn't seem to exert a little while ago when struggling to pull away from Jack's dancing) and pushed him down into the bed, pressing down hard on top of him. Jack gasped for breath and opened his eyes, waiting for his vision to return, to meet with the sharp blue eyes of the man breathing hot and heavy right in his face, tongue darting across his lips, calculating scheming rolling through his brain.

"Dahn--" Jack began for some reason but was rudely interrupted by the aforementioned anthropologist, mating their tongues together. That was enough for Jack to abandon the English language entirely, embracing Daniel's heavy grip and wildly returning the kiss with as much vigor as he had, hands roaming crazily to be everywhere at once. He felt like his mind was going to explode with joy.

And somewhere, crying from its position on Daniel's nightstand, was an alarm clock shrieking.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Sir!"

Jack stopped like somebody had taken a shot at him. When he saw it was just Major Carter he tried to calm down enough to hear his own voice over his pounding heart.

"Carter! Hey. Uh. Sorry about running a little late. Hammond hasn't noticed yet right?"

Samantha Carter shifted her stance and leaned against the locker-room doorframe, tilting her head and looking at her C.O. suspiciously.

"No . . . not really. He's been pretty distracted this morning and SG-1 isn't due to go until a few hours . . . what's going on?"

Jack straightened up, shifting his stance this way and that, not succeeding in looking casual, continuously stuffing his hands in his pockets nervously.

"Oh you know, the usual, overslept, alarm clock's gotten all wonky on me, you know how the stupid cheap things are. Keep telling myself I've got to get a new one, I never get around to getting anything done. I'm sure you can relate, eh Carter?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Sure . . . happens all the time . . . sir, are you sure you're all right?"

Jack beamed a scary smile at her and whapped the side of his locker cheerily,

"Oh yes Major I'm just peachy-keen, never been better. Don't worry I would never miss work and let you guys have all the fun. Afraid you're all still stuck with me, yep . . ."

Teal'c was passing by the same corridor and spotted Jack. He came beside Carter and said,

"O'Neill. You are late this morning."

Jack looked slightly irritated at this redundancy.

"Hey T. Yeah so I've been told. Look can't a guy be a few freakin' minutes late every now and again without having his head bit off? It's not like I went to Tahiti or something."

Teal'c looked curious.

"Where is Tahiti?"

Jack shook his head.

"Never mind. Major is there any coffee left by chance?"

Sam looked at him cautiously.

"Are you sure you need any, sir?"

Jack frowned at her.

"Oh funny ha-ha. It's not like I'm as bad as a certain anthropologist who shall remain nameless."

Carter ceded this,

"That's true. I think Daniel finished off the last of this morning's. He went scurrying off to catch up with SG-12. Didn't even have time to change out of his civvies . . . it's funny, though, sir."

Jack raised his brows.

"Uh what's funny?"

She glanced to Teal'c, and then gave Jack a searching look, saying,

"It's just funny that he was late _too._"

Jack laughed. A very unnerved chuckling and an almost wincing smile, he fiddled with the squeaky door on his locker.

"Hilarious, Major. What're the chances. Well whoo-boy you're a physicist so you should know. Ah well who knows, same alarm clock curse maybe huh. I've really got to change and get to work y'know. Don't want the big cat seeing the mice sneak in, right?"

Sam and Teal'c exchanged another look.

"Oh-kaay then. Guess I'll see you later. Hope you have a good morning sir."

"Thanks, Carter."

Sam and Teal'c both left Jack to his own devices and walked down the corridor together. Sam glanced over her shoulder as they left, as she could've sworn she heard the sounds of cursing and a locker-door being repeatedly banged against something, echoing down the hallways.

"Uh Teal'c, can I ask you something?"

"As you have already asked me something, MajorCarter, that would seem to be a purposeless question."

Sam smiled.

"Ah. Touché. So what do you make of these two?"

"In what manner do you speak?"

Sam nodded.

"_You_ know. The late crazymakers. Colonel's wound up like a top. Daniel wouldn't say much of anything. And ah--"

She smirked.

"Might you wish to mention Dr.Jackson's unusual attire this morning?" Teal'c queried.

"You have to admit it does make you wonder. You think he was aware of it?"

"I am uncertain," Teal'c admitted. "There are still many of your more-- subtle-- cultural details I have yet to master."

Sam raised her brows.

"I don't know if I would have called that subtle."

Teal'c looked curiously to the Major.

"Than can you describe the cultural significance when one wears clothing that has the name of an individual painted onto its backside?"

Sam bit a lower lip, smirking.

"Uh, no. I don't think I can. I'm sure it was just an accident. He was late, in a hurry, grabbed some clothes . . ."

". . . and sat on an artwork O'Neill was inscribing his name with?" Teal'c finished for her in a questioning tone. She looked at him.

"Was that a joke?"

Teal'c looked at her searchingly.

"Have you a better explanation?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. These things happen."

They paused at the entrance to Sam's lab. They exchanged a look and a knowing smile before entering.


	18. Way 70 Time Heals All Wounds

**A/N**: Sorry this story took a hiatus without warning, folks. School started and I got swept away in work. I'm back, I'll try to update as often as possible. This story only has a few chapters left in it to go, I imagine. Anyway I hope you all enjoy. Props to one of my reviewers, Wyrdnightsister, for this chappy's idea.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Way #70 – Time Heals All Wounds_

Another day, another world. Samantha Carter grinned eagerly down at the sheet of paper in front of her. The initial tests were complete and the samples tested positive for naquadah. She had a strong feeling all along that this would be so. This was a very pleasant thing to wake up to. She murmured to herself as she flipped through the sheets, sipping her morning coffee, sketching out in her mind the next steps to take. Yes. They should start in that area and work their way out in an eastern direction. That would ensure the wind in this region didn't interfere. Good.

Carter glanced over her shoulder suddenly, but the campsite was quiet and motionless. The pair of green pup-tents flapped gently in the breeze, and the sheets on her clipboard ruffled slightly. Carter had to suppress a shutter. Ever since they arrived on this world things had seemed_ too_ quiet and calm. It was lonely here. The ground was covered in a fine, slate blue-grey sand for miles that curved and scooped in rippling sand dunes and valleys in all directions. There were larger stones, too, smoothed from weathering, but no vegetation to speak of, and no sign of animal life, either. The distant blue sun would have normally kept this world an average of 68-75 degrees F, but the persistent breeze added a bit of wind chill factor. Samantha sighed and looked back down to her work. It looked like a boon of naquadah and the possibilities that provided for experiments back home at the SGC were fantastic. Carter was secretly glad SG-1 would soon depart this place, though, and let another group take over the mining operation. Something about this place just gave her the creeps. Maybe it was the constant buzzy sensation at the back of her head telling her that naquadah was very, very near. She was constantly on edge, expecting a Goa'uld to leap out at her every time she turned around.

Samantha jumped again at a sound, and a quick glance told her it was only one of her team members. The Colonel, frazzled clothes from sleep, was immerging from the tent and lumbered over to his pack sitting next to the fireplace. Carter relaxed and became absorbed in her work once more, writing down some notes on her preliminary plans. Several minutes passed before she looked back up again. When she did, she noticed the Colonel was making quite a fuss, emptying his pack of all sorts of junk and sorting through them. She watched curiously for a while. He would gather up as much crap as his arms could hold and then fumble his way back over to the tent and make his way inside. Several minutes later he re-immerged. Sam rolled her eyes and sighed, knowing it was useless to fight it anymore. She had to see what the idiot was doing this time to poor Daniel. So she got up and walked over, quietly, knowing from experience that she might get snapped at if she were too loud.

"Hey," she whispered once she was within hearing range. Jack glanced at her with minimal interest, quite distracted with his current task. He was pulling several more plastic things from his pack, balancing them in his arms.

"Colonel. What're you . . ."

"-it's best to not get involved, Carter. You don't wanna be taking any crossfire from Danny, huh?"

Sam frowned as she finally figured out that Jack was holding a huge pile of clocks. Plastic alarm clocks of various types, tons of them, digital, analog, corded and wireless, even some wrist-watches and stop-watches.

"Uh . . . sir? What's with the clocks?"

Jack raised his brows at her. He spoke in a half-whispered, mock-lecture tone,

"What did I just tell you, Major?"

She smiled slightly.

"Not to get involved."

Jack turned at that and made his way back to his tent with all the clocks in tow. Sam frowned as a new thought occurred to her.

"Wait- how'd you _get_ all of those, sir?"

Too late, as Jack had already vanished behind the flap.

She hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether to return to her peaceful morning routine, or spend a few moments longer pursuing the latest shenanigan. Her curiosity won out this time.

Ducking under the tent flap, the dark, musty tent was sloppily kept, and she wrinkled her nose at it, and the random clothing articles spread about. Jack's clocks were everywhere. Just piles and piles of them. And they did look functional. Jack was putting out even more. Most of them were pivoted to face in one general direction, the sleeping bag Daniel was still buried deep in.

"You scare me sometimes, sir," Carter observed from her spot by the flap. The Colonel didn't even look up and continued his work.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Carter."

At that point Sam left and went about her own business, not foolish enough to wait around for the action to start and, as Jack had effectively put it, possibly get caught in the crossfire.

A sea of sand. Daniel could feel himself sinking into it. It unnerved him because the blue-grey grit reminded him of the Replicators. The way it was constantly shifting and changing, almost as if alive- individual chips ready to reassemble and merge into the twitchy, unfriendly insect robots. The silence only made things more disturbing. Only the howl of the breeze on this entire world to keep one company. It had been a lonely feeling when he tried to fall asleep last night. But Jack had been there . . . so it wasn't so bad. They talked and kept each other company. Daniel had managed to fall asleep . . .

He was dreaming now, though, of very unpleasant things. Insects where everywhere . . . his skin itched. He could feel their cool, scratchy feet all over him. The noise the group as a whole made . . . it was deafening. A whiny sort of buzz sound. One of them alone was not so loud, or so intimidating, but as a hive mind, they were a massive force. The blending of metallic, harsh buzzing sounds and all of that constant motion was enough to make Daniel feel sick to his stomach. He could feel them swarming all around him, and everywhere he looked, they were there- above him, below him, at all sides, shuffling by, pushing, shoving, moving. They did not see him as a threat so he knew they would not attack him . . . and they were not quite dense enough to immobilize him. He could still breathe, and move, if he did so slowly. It felt like wading through a very thick liquid. He was still afraid, though . . . but not for himself. He . . . he was afraid for someone else. There was a sense of danger. With a frustrated cry, Daniel pushed to try and wade through the Replicators . . . to move faster. But no matter how hard he pushed, he could only move at the same slow pace, like sliding through molasses . . .

God! He couldn't stand it. The disgusting little creatures all around him, this seething, writhing ocean of artificial life. He was helpless against them, and he knew it. He was deep in their world, and it was massive . . . it would take days to travel through, to try and reach his destination. He knew this. It would be too late. He'd be too late . . . God, no. Daniel whimpered as a sense of dread engulfed him. _No! _He couldn't leave him to die like that! He had to get there. He _had _to.

He plowed forward, using his arms and legs in stroking motions, as if swimming, his whole body twisting and turning desperately to fight against the crawling tide of creatures. The bugs crawled over and under and by him, entirely unaffected, entirely unmoved by his passionate attempts. Daniel cried out a plea and swung desperately with all his might, struggling there, but his movements were like a drowning person, treading water, gaining very little distance if any at all. He could feel the helplessness of the situation and it pressed against his chest like a dead weight. It crushed him. Knowing that here he was, so close and yet so far . . . alive and well . . . while no doubt his companion was getting tortured and killed. Daniel screamed and kicked and flailed, losing his mind in the blackness, grey and blue sliding around wildly in his vision, his voice drowned out by the screechy buzz of the hive. He felt his throat choking up, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see . . . _no!_ _No! No!_ No . . . Jack . . .

Oh, God . . . Jack . . . I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

I couldn't, Jack. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it in time. I . . . I . . .

Daniel closed his eyes, feeling them burn, the knot in his throat. Able to stand the pain no more.

_REEP REEP REEP REEEP_

_CHEEEBER CHEEBER CHEEBER CHEEBER_

_TAR-IL-IL-IL-IL-IL-IL! TAR-IL-IL-IL-IL-IL-IL!_

_AAAAAK AAAAK AAAAK AAAAK AAAAK_

_RRRR RRRR RRRR RRRR RRRR_

_MURP MURP MURP MURP MURP MURP!_

_CHAP CHAP CHAP CHAP CHAP CHAP_

Daniel awoke with a massive gasp for breath, flailing his limbs in his sleeping bag violently, in some sort of spasm on the floor, crying out. All around him a symphony filled the air, a combination of the most horrible sounds he'd ever known on the planet. They were loud, shrill, buzzy and metallic, screaming at him from all directions, screaming at him. He opened his eyes but he didn't understand what he saw, just flashes of blinking red lights all around him, like the glaring eyes of the hive. He called and fought to escape his trap, tripped up in the sleeping bag, heart pounding in his chest like a jackhammer, crying out helplessly as the shrieks rang in his head all around him.

He didn't know how but through his desperate struggles he felt his limbs slipping free and he stumbled around blindly in the darkness, bumping into the Replicators, all around, tripping him, falling onto him, and he swatted and pushed and fought them away. In this terrible state he crawled around on his hands and knees, pushing, pulling, fighting to gain some ground, some sort of escape, knowing how futile his efforts truly were. It had happened all at once and was quite a shock, when the wall gave way and suddenly he was falling, slipping from their grasps, out into open air and sunlight. He felt a new texture below him, their screams still in his head, and he sunk his fingernails in, grabbing on for dear life to whatever piece of sanity this new land was. This sanctuary, this island among the sea of creatures.

Ripping violently forward he yanked himself into this new abyss and crawled forward, blinded by the light out here, his eyes not adjusted to it. He knew he was making some progress, though, because the sounds began to decrease, slightly at first, and more as he plowed forward. They were further behind- was it possible? Was he really getting free? Daniel sputtered and coughed at the dusty taste in his mouth, and fought to bring his eyes into focus. He hadn't his glasses on but the blurriness right in front of him should have focused- he stared at the ground, trying to focus on his hands. Eventually he did so, and could differentiate, his fingers sunk into the floor. Yes . . . they were buried in the sand, and he could feel its smoothness against his skin.

The sand. Daniel stared down at it in horror, mouth agape and unable to speak. That same blue-grey grit, what he was feeling between his fingers and toes. The difference between this sand and his beloved Abydos was the difference between day and night. He shut his mouth and swallowed on impulse, feeling his gut tighten again and his throat constrict. He blinked painfully against the wave of nausea, unable to think.

"Daniel?"

The man knew his name had been called, though he didn't know from whom it came. He didn't have the effort to reply, though, or even consider one. His eyes drifted open and along the sand, and latched on to a boot. It was a boot, yes.

"Daniel? What are you . . . oh, my G-. . . Danny? Can you hear me?"

The man blinked at the boot a moment and then tried to follow it up, up to its owner. Someone was peering down at him.

"Oh my fuck," he heard a harsh whisper,

"Daniel, for God's sake. What's wrong? What happened? I didn't mean-"

"Jack?" Daniel asked, having somehow finally connected the voice in his mind.

"Oh, no . . . no, not good. What did I do? Daniel, tell me you're all right . . ."

Daniel automatically replied,

"I'm all right, Jack. But what about you?"

"Me?" Jack's voice was clearly puzzled. Daniel blinked at him, studying the man's expression. Jack was standing, Daniel was on the ground, he realized. Jack was in his fatigues like normal. It looked like nothing had happened to him at all. It didn't make sense.

"Yeah . . . you . . . I . . ." Daniel trailed off, too confused to really say anything that made sense. Jack couldn't stand it any more and leaned down, scooping Daniel up and trying to pull him to his feet.

"Daniel, can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"

The archaeologist frowned, annoyed,

"Why does _that_ matter? I'm trying to think. Jack, you can't be real."

"Huh?" Jack furrowed his brow and eyed Daniel.

"You died." The total conviction in Daniel's tone brought a very disturbed look to Jack's face.

Daniel added on,

"Didn't you . . .?"

Jack looked away. As if looking to somebody else. Daniel tried following his gaze and was met with a familiar face, Sam's. She was watching the both of them, quiet and with a deep look of concern.

"Is he all right?" Sam asked, almost as if fearing the answer.

Daniel didn't get it. He looked back at Jack. The man had his arms wrapped around him for support as he had pulled him to his feet. Suddenly, a light switch clicked in Dr. Jackson's mind. Just like that. _Click._ Instantly, he understood that he was only now awake.

Jack could see Daniel had finally come to- it was simple enough to recognize. He gave a guilty whimper and pulled Daniel to him tighter.

"God Daniel I didn't mean it I swear. I wasn't trying to blow your little mind I was just-just-you know! Doing stupid crap like usual! Please don't hate me-please-please-don't hate me-"

Daniel was too dazed at first to respond, still trying to sort things out in his mind.

"Jack . . . what. Happened?"

Jack gave him a look of horror.

"Don't tell me I have to actually tell you the stupid crap I did. You- you really don't know?"

"Um. Not really."

Jack studied Daniel's face.

"The . . . last thing I remember. Um."

Daniel shifted and blinked down at himself, finally realizing he was a frightened looking grown man in boxers and a t-shirt, clinging to the Colonel, standing barefoot in the slate-grey sand on a chilly and lonely world.

"Is some god-forsaken nightmare about the Replicators. Jack, could you maybe let me get dressed. It's cold out here."

Jack grunted an assent and pulled Daniel along back to the pup-tent in a rush, almost as if angry at Daniel.

"Wait out here a sec," he stated tersely and dove into the tent. Daniel frowned in confusion, gazing through the tent flap. From within were all sorts of strange sounds, a symphony of noise, various chirps, beeps, shrieks and cries in electronic voices. Jack started throwing things over his shoulder and straight out the tent, one by one. He clicked each clock off and then flung it aside.

Daniel watched as the clocks bounced across the sand in random directions. Sam came up quietly from behind.

"He was, uh. They're alarm clocks. He had them set to all go off at once, it was-"

"Yeah, I get it now," Daniel answered, as the watches and clocks whizzed by.

"He didn't mean for it to. You know."

"I know. I, uh-"

Daniel squinted at her face, holding his arms, standing a little shrunken back in the chilly breeze.

"It's never really caught me off guard before until now. I'm not sure why, this place just . . ."

"Gives you the creeps?"

"Yeah."

The last of the clocks went flying through the tent, from a strong toss by Jack. Then he reached out and yanked Daniel back into the tent. Daniel landed on top of a sleeping bag. Jack had a grave look on his face, the shadows of the tent making his face look even more serious and haunting. He spoke in a low, quiet voice.

"Daniel, I don't know how to begin apologizing to you. The first thing I'm going to do is obviously swear to you that I'll immediately put a stop to these stupid pranks."

"Jack, I-"

"No. Please let me finish first. I haven't been fair at all to you. I thought I could be light-hearted about things, I was such an idiot. To think you don't suffer from the same sort of crap I have to put up with on a nightly basis. As if you need any more shit to deal with in the mornings off world."

Daniel fell quiet.

"The last thing I want to do is add to your problems, Daniel, I want to help take them away."

Jack's voice was raw and sincere, and he looked upon Daniel with such plainly worried eyes. Daniel could practically see the thoughts churning in Jack's mind as the man reminded himself of all the Hell they'd been through together and back.

"Jack . . ." Daniel voiced so quietly. Gazing into his ashamed eyes, Daniel was so taken aback.

"I'm s-"

"_Shhh._ Jack. Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Apologize."

Jack stared at him, not any less calm.

"Daniel-"

"You never mean anything malicious by it and we all know that."

"That's not the point. Goddamnit Daniel, I can't count the number of times I've woken up like that, some scream still in my throat, because my own mind's been putting me through some kind of private Hell reserved only for me. You of all people don't deserve that-"

"Me of all people?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Don't give me that garbage, Jack. I'm no saint and neither are you. Stop insisting on staging your own little purgatory with me as your savior."

Jack blinked, surprised at the harsh reply.

"I-I'm sorry."

"We're in things together. All right? Same boat. Just as deserving as the next man."

Jack's shoulders slumped.

"Maybe so, but I still think you're my better half."

Daniel shook his head at him.

"You knucklehead. You haven't been making things worse. Think about it. All these times you've come up with newer and dumber things to do. I've been meeting the dawn with _you_ as the first thing, not the nightmares."

Jack gave him a searching look.

"I guess, but me doing pretty lousy things."

"Things to keep us sane. All this insanity we have to go through as a team, and hardly ever talk about with anyone. There have to be ways to keep our sanity in tact."

"By dumping water on your head?"

"That is one of your primary methods, yes. Whatever works."

"But this morning . . ."

"Is bound to happen every once in a while. Can't beat them all."

"You dreamed I was dead?"

It was more of a question than a statement. Jack screwed his jaw sideways watching Daniel apprehensively.

"Yes. I . . ." Daniel sat down and focused on the memories.

"I was deep inside the planet. It was made of Replicators. They had a building towards the center, where they held you hostage. You were trapped there, it was hopeless trying to reach you."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know. For being an ass. For dying in your dream."

Daniel whacked Jack's arm.

"You can't apologize for getting killed in _my_ dream, you moron. You can't be held responsible for what you do in other people's heads."

"Yeah I can. Maybe not other people's heads but I think I should be responsible for what I do in _yours."_

"Oh really?"

"Absolutely."

"Sounds to me like you owe me a favor then."

"I agree to that."

Daniel glanced around the tent for his watch, but it seemed Jack had thrown out all traces of clocks whatsoever, and it probably got lost in the crossfire.

"Aren't we supposed to be getting ready to leave soon?"

Jack grunted.

"Yeah. Whatever."

Daniel sighed.

"Jack, you can stop feeling guilty now."

"I scared the shit out of you."

"Well what else is new?"

Jack glared.

"This time is different."

Daniel sighed again quietly.

"Yeah. You're right. It was different. The nightmares used to only be about Sha're."

Jack straightened upon hearing the name.

"I loved her. She's gone now. I'll always care for her, but now. Now when I wake up, I don't have to wake up alone . . ."

Jack lunged forward and enshrouded the man with his body, clinging tight. He could feel Jack's body shutter, the tension he was holding in.

"It's all right," Daniel said gently. He swallowed, feeling a knot in his throat.

"I still feel like crap for this morning," Jack mumbled into Daniel's nape.

"Don't. Please don't."

Jack let out a long, strained exhalation. God, this was ridiculous, he had to make him feel better. Daniel pulled away so he could look Jack in the eyes. A deep, hurt, kicked puppy-dog look to them, which was ironic, considering it was Daniel who received the rude awakening this morning. Daniel cupped either side of the man's face. He brought his face close enough so their noses were nearly touching. Slowly, he said,

"Jack."

The man trembled slightly upon hearing his name spoken so low and earnestly. Daniel continued in a quiet, deliberate tone.

"I know you fear hurting those you love."

Daniel paused to pull in a breath.

"I won't break, Jack. Never by you."

Jack let out a strangled whimper and said sharply,

"I _could-"_

_"-No._" Daniel cut him off, "Never by you."

"You can't promise that."

"Yes, I can, Jack."

Jack peered back, but Daniel could see the walls going up. The glazed look to his expression.

"We've got to start packing."

"Jack . . ."

The Colonel stood.

"Now. We'll be expected back in an hour. Get your gear."

Daniel sighed in defeat as the man walked away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………


	19. Way 71 Lullaby

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Way # 71 – Lullaby_

There was something wrong.

Daniel knew this instinctively. He didn't know how, he just did. When you experience danger enough times you develop a knack for detecting it. At least, that was his theory.

He was certain the pulsating pain in his skull had something to do with it. It wasn't that bad, just sort of an aching throb. But his whole body felt heavy as lead. His senses felt dulled, his thinking was slowed . . . his reaction time, too. He . . . _oh_. His breathing. It was a little difficult. Not . . . well, it was just . . . slowed down like the rest of him. Shallow breaths. Needed more . . .

_Rock-a-bye baby_

_On the tree top . . ._

Daniel twitched slightly. It was dark where he was. It was cool and dark, and fluid. He could feel a gentle swaying. There were ambient sounds, out there somewhere, but he couldn't focus very well on them.

_When the wind blows, _

_The cradle will rock . . ._

He could feel his heartbeat, how slowly it was beating in his chest, and he was a little frightened. It was too slow. There was something wrong . . . it felt too slow. He couldn't quite breathe enough. He tried to expand his lungs further but it was so hard, it was so very hard.

_When the bow breaks,_

_The cradle will fall . . ._

That voice in his head was singing to him. It was intimately familiar to him. The lilt and the way it would sink into coarseness on the low notes. It was pleasing and reassuring. He couldn't see where it came from, though. He couldn't see at all.

_And down will come baby . . ._

_Cradle and all . . ._

That fluid sensation again, and a deep creaking sound, followed by a light, airy, whirling sound from all around him. Suddenly he noticed he could feel warmth, clinging to him like a tight sheet around his body. Yes, there was a temperature variation . . . he tried to wriggle, but didn't know whether he was moving at all. In his mind, Dr. Jackson began to grasp the depth of his danger. He was immobilized. His heart rate and breathing were slow and shallow. He couldn't see . . . couldn't move. He was vulnerable. And he might be sick, dying. He had to move.

His mind cried out to move, but his body wasn't cooperating. Come _on_, Dr. Jackson, we can do _better _than that . . .

_Hush little baby, don't say a word_

_Daddy's gonna buy you a mocking bird._

Daniel stopped his mental struggle for a moment and concentrated on the voice. It had come back, slow and soft, almost as if it were breathing very near to him. He focused on it.

_And if that mocking-bird don't sing . . ._

_Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond-ring._

_And if that diamond ring turns brass,_

_Daddy's gonna buy you a looking-glass. . ._

Daniel took in a breath. Familiar pathways in his brain shot off, he recognized the song, and the voice. It wasn't in his head, it was outside, very near to him, right next to him. He could feel the breath in his ear.

_And if that looking-glass gets broke_

_Daddy's gonna buy you a billy-goat. . ._

Eyelids lifted and pupils contracted in the light. There was only light and shadow at first, but then outlines, and a human figure.

_And if that billy-goat won't pull_

_Daddy's gonna buy you a cart and bull._

_And if that cart and bull turn over . . ._

Dr. Jackson struggled to take deeper breaths. He was on his back, he could feel that now. And, and there was pressure on his body, on certain points. This roughness, it sort of numbed him, as if it had been prolonged. It wrapped around him, it . . . bound him. But he could move if he could only make the effort . . .

_Daddy's gonna buy you a dog named Rover. . ._

The name pushed its way to the forefront of his mind at last and he felt his lungs strain under the pressure.

"Ja . . .ck?"

A pair of brown eyes slowly blinked open, like a sleepy owl from its nap, pupils large and shying away from the light. He felt the weak breath,

_And if that dog named Rover won't bark,_

_Daddy's going to buy you a horse and cart . . ._

After that his voice tapered off to an unintelligible mumble of the tune. Daniel watched a while in slow fascination until the man spat out triumphantly,

_Aahnd if that horse and cart . . . fall down_

_You'll still be the sweetest . . . baby in town._

A dull pain began to spread from his head to the rest of Dr. Jackson's body. He was actually relieved to feel this. Before, his body had been almost entirely numb. He was starting to get sensation back, though it was long and painful in coming.

_Hi Daniel. You're awake._

Daniel tried to move—to sit up a little, turn his head, do something. All he was able to manage was to grip his hand slightly around the rough object surrounding him.

_Yeah . . . hey. _

He could see Jack though, the man was lying on his side, his head turned to face him. The man looked a little crumpled, his clothes in disarray.

_How's it going?_

Daniel slowly swept his gaze around. He felt the rope around his limbs experimentally. It was a trap. Jack was very near . . . pushed right into him. The ropes . . . it was a small, confined space.

"I'm not sure," Daniel answered, his voice coming out squeaky and breathy, sounding rather silly in the circumstances.

"Neither am I," the voice replied, and Jack tilted his head backwards just slightly, so he could gaze directly upwards. He answered in a slow, sort of drunken-sounding voice.

"And consssidering I'm about as weak as a kitten I don't think I can chew my way out of these things at the moment . . ."

Daniel followed his upward gaze to the abyss above them, where the woven ropes came together. It was a net. An old-fashioned net woven of heavy plant fibers. Of course.

"Oh." Daniel replied. It wasn't the most brilliant response he'd fashioned, but he was a bit handicapped at the moment.

"So I've been singing to passss the time . . . you wouldn't wake up, I kept saying . . . Daniel, Daniel . . . wake up, Daniel. I, uh . . ."

Jack looked at him as if uncertain whether Daniel really was awake or not.

"I was pretty light-headed. Hard time . . . staying conscious myself. Trying to. Keep myself occupied. Something about. You got to. You know. Not go to sleep when. When. . ."

Jack look frustrated—his usual lack of grace with language was bad enough but this was ridiculous.

"You know what I mean, right?"

Daniel tried to nod but it was too hard, so he answered verbally.

"Yeah . . . yeah. I do, I think. I do. . ."

"Good. Yeah."

Jack's face grimaced, as if trying to move, but he didn't seem to actually move.

"Daniel," he said.

"Yes."

"How much can you move?"

Daniel thought about the question and experimented. He stretched his body out, his feet moved a little, his fingers gripped and twitched, but he couldn't lift his arms. He exhaled a big puff of air from the effort.

"Hardly at all."

Jack made a groaning sound. Daniel brought his gaze back to the man's eyes.

"That's what I was afraid of."

"You?" Daniel asked, not able to work up the effort to make it a more complete sentence. He hoped Jack understood what he meant.

Jack's hand twitched, and then, to Daniel's awe, actually did raise a little. He moved it slowly like every single fiber in his arm felt like fire to move. What seemed like decades later, it lowered, onto Daniel's hand.

He could feel it quivering, hear the hoarse breathing of the man beside him.

"We've been paralyzed," Daniel said as the word came to him in a shot of inspiration. Then he blinked and carried on,

"Only partially. Some . . . plants and animals can naturally produce. Uh. Stuff. Paral. . . Paralyze stuff."

"I see."

Jack didn't see, but he said it anyway. Or maybe he did. It was hard to tell. Daniel pondered this a while. Jack then asked,

"What . . . can it kill you. In high doses?"

Daniel thought about this and agreed.

"Yes. It can. Slow down the circulatory system enough, the nervous system . . . it . . . stops."

"Oh."

Daniel mulled over what he had just said. Ooooh. Oh, yes.

"Hey. That's—that isn't good. We can't let that happen to us."

"Uh-huh. Try tellin' it to the petunias."

Daniel squinted at the man, convinced his stunted senses were hearing him wrong.

"Huh?"

"Petunias . . . purple ones. They're, they were . . . all over the damn place."

Great. So Jack had gone mad then. Total gibberish.

"You're crazy."

Jack looked annoyed.

"Shut up. Don't tell me you don't remember them."

Daniel grunted.

"Of course I don't. What've goddamn petunias got to do with anything."

After that hung in the air, Daniel laughed, giggled an airless laugh, struck at how stupid the notion sounded.

"You freaking bubblebrain. The flowers. It's all their fault. Don't you remember how we got here."

"Bubblebrain?" Daniel echoed, trying to decide if the insult was childish or clever.

"Petunias. We walked over them on the path. There's this weird smell. . ."

"Like _dead fish_!"

"Exactly!" Jack cheered at Daniel's inspiration. Yes. That smell wasn't something Dr. Jackson could forget. God knows he wanted to.

"You saying. That some flowers did this to us?"

"_Yes._ God. Do I have to spell the whole thing out?"

Daniel paused, feeling his head go fuzzy and strange. Light-headed. The effort from all this talking was getting to him. His legs ached with sudden knifes of pain. He grunted, his eyes drifting unfocused.

"What's wrong?"

Daniel struggled to pull in more air from his stubborn, tight lungs.

"The pain. It hurts to talk. Move. I want to sleep."

"No," Jack protested quickly.

"Why not?" Daniel whined, closing his eyes, awash with the ache.

"Daniel," Jack hissed. Daniel growled and opened his eyes. He saw fear there.

"You go to sleep you might never wake back up again."

That didn't sound so bad. But Jack was afraid of that for some reason.

"So what?"

Something in Jack's eyes flickered, a stab of fire awakened. His voice came out hot and harsh, so much that he could hardly hear it.

"So what—_so what! _You—you bastard—you sonofabitch. Where the fuck do you get off saying shit like that?"

"Hey, _hey._ I don't need to take this from you-"

"You fucking well do too. In case you haven't noticed, we're trapped here together like a pair of salmon in a fishing net waiting to be eaten!"

Daniel blinked. He hadn't noticed. Well, he had, but the fact hadn't sunk in until now.

"We're up high, aren't we? In the trees."

Jack sighed and cast a bleary gaze outward.

"I think so, yeah. Possibly a long ways down."

"The trap, we walked over it. Our weight triggered it, oldest trick in the book. Basic hunting and trapping. We got swung up here and went unconscious."

Jack grunted in agreement to Daniel's recollection. He said gruffly,

"When I woke up I couldn't even tell if you were breathing."

Daniel swallowed his dry throat, trying to fight off the dizzying pain. The conversation was more important.

"I might not have been," Daniel murmured, trying to recall. The memory was merely a pit of blackness. Had he died? Was he alive now?

"Got to stay alive. Got to keep breathing. Got to focus on the detail. The detail. . ."

Daniel watched as Jack's eyes slid slowly shut, his breathing slowing down more, until he couldn't see it. He looked so peaceful. His features not pulled taunt, merely lax as in sleep. So . . . no. Wrong. Something was wrong.

"JACK."

Daniel squeezed his hand, tightly around Jack's hand, the one that had been resting on his. He felt a grip weakly reciprocate and a surge of relief rushed through his body.

"Daniel," Jack returned tiredly.

"What detail. Tell me. What detail to stay alive?"

Jack's eyes slid open, with a glazed look to them. But his thoughts were slowly gathering.

"Lullaby. I'd sing."

"What for?" Daniel pushed.

He could see Jack struggling with it. Something terrible swept over his eyes. He closed them, expression wrenched into that of fierce pain and fear. A tear slid down the side of his face. Daniel didn't know what to do, what was wrong. He clutched Jack's hand as tightly as he could.

"To keep him breathing. God, I . . . I used to sing him to sleep every night. I thought . . . I don't know why."

Jack's eyes opened again gently, his face slowly relaxing, as he sought his friend's gaze out.

"I thought I could keep him breathing. I held him as close as I could. Rock . . . back and forth. I sang to him."

Daniel could feel the raw pain as he comprehended what Jack was speaking. He felt Jack's body irradiating the sensation in waves, the ugly truth, the harsh reality, the twisted fate to befall him. It sunk through Daniel's skin, rushed through his blood. He felt for him . . . his blame. His whole world eviscerated . . . in that one shot.

"I sang the lullabies that would bring him to sleep. I knew. GodIknew, in that moment it had to work. It _had_ to. It just would. He knew them. He knew them. They'd keep him alive. He had to keep breathing."

A long, shuttering sigh, Jack swallowed, closed his eyes, so that tears rolled down his face unhindered.

"I'm sorry. I was just afraid. I couldn't tell. If you were still breathing."

Daniel squeezed Jack's hand and moved his thumb, stroking in a circular motion. Jack's eyes opened and locked with Daniel. He returned the grip, stroking with his own thumb. So much relief in his eyes.

"Keep singing, Jack," Daniel said quietly.

So he did.

"By-low baby

By-low baby

By-low baby

By-low baby-by. . ."

It wasn't anything Daniel recognized, but that didn't matter. Just some random tune, low, lazy, weaving.

". . . Daniel?"

"What."

"What about . . ." Jack swallowed, fighting against the paralysis that was defeating his body. He tried again.

"What about escape. The others . . . think they'll find us up here?"

Daniel thought about it.

"Good chance, I think. They're smart. . ."

"They'll find us. Carter, she'll . . . hopefully we'll still be alive by then."

Daniel licked his dry lips, his gaze a green blur at whatever beyond the net was. The breeze stirred them again and the net swayed gently to and fro, the ropes creaking against the wood they were fashioned to.

"Yeah. Hopefully," he agreed after a long pause. He wanted to try and think of something more they could do, but it was just too much. It was already too much to hold onto consciousness.

Daniel rolled his thumb in a circular motion, one of the few things left he could do in his state. Keeping contact . . . Jack returned the pressure, and motion, slowly articulating his own fingers. Daniel sighed and closed his eyes, to focus on his breathing. He threaded his fingers with Jack's. In a low, gruff voice, Jack murbled the tune over again.

"Daddy still loves you

Daddy still loves you…"

"Daddy still loves you

Though he's gone to war . . ."


	20. Way 72 Guide Me

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_Way # 72 – Guide Me_

It was white and clean. Daniel slept a long time here. It smelled of antiseptic, and the lights were too bright and unnatural. Fluorescent, instead of sunlight. It was safe here, though. His body could heal and his mind could clear. Sometimes, he would dream. It was a dance in and out of dreaming and a deeper sort of sleep. The dreams were garbled and had snippets of memory wound into them, but without context they were merely gibberish. The steady beeping of medical equipment, and the hazy sound of voices in the distance, held low in muted conversation. And then the darkness of sleep.

He didn't leave that darkness again until a long time had passed. A warm, familiar hand had slipped into his, gripped it. Daniel returned the grip and opened his eyes. A broad smile and lively eyes were there to greet him.

"Hey."

The voice was low and friendly. Daniel smiled up at him.

"Hi."

"How you feeling?"

Daniel considered that. He pulled in a breath and felt his lungs easily expand and contract. He could feel his body and his limbs again. Very tired, but much better than before.

"Good. How long . . .?"

"You've been sleeping? Dunno, I think it's only been a day or two. I only just recently got up myself."

Daniel examined the man's face, the status of the room he was in. It was quiet here, there was one of Janet's nurses in the background, working on something.

"Do you remember anything?" Daniel asked. Jack was sitting in a chair near his bed, his own crumpled, used bed just a little ways over. He had one of Daniel's hands in his own, and sat looking worn out, but definitely recuperating. He had on powder blue hospital gown that matched Daniel's. The man nodded and replied,

"Yeah, a little. Planet P06-7F551. Standard recon. Split up . . . ran into some trouble in some seemingly innocent field."

Daniel blinked up at the hospital ceiling, dull grey concrete and pipes leading along. He recalled,

"There was interference. Our radios weren't working."

Jack agreed.

"Carter had said something about the electro-magnetic-whatzzit-atmosphere-thing. I dunno. Next thing you know, wham, bam . . . goddamn natives. You'd think they'd be more thoughtful about where they left those traps laying around."

"Mmm."

Jack turned a little, to some tray on a rolling stand near the foot of his bed, and turned back, holding a bright red object near Daniel's face.

"Want some Jell-O? Couldn't eat mine. Don't have much of an appetite back yet."

"Um, maybe a little later. Thanks."

"'Kay." He set it down on the equipment table near Daniel's bed. They sat there for a little while, uncertain what to say next. Daniel fought for something to talk about. He began,

"Are you . . . ahem."

"What?"

Daniel paused, not remembering what he was even going to ask. He searched until he found something to say.

"Are you supposed to be up like this now? Out of bed, I mean. . ."

Jack gave a wayward glance to his bed.

"Probably not. I waited until Frasier left the room. She said you were okay but needed your sleep. I just wanted to see."

A warmth filled Daniel and he smiled at Jack, squeezing his hand.

"Thanks, Jack."

The Colonel looked at him warily.

"For what? Leading you to some alien psycho plant that nearly got us killed?"

Daniel chuckled lightly. Jack didn't seem to find anything funny in it.

"No. Not for that part. For keeping us alive after the psycho plant tried to kill us."

"Oh . . . that."

"Yes. That."

"Well. I didn't really do much, truthfully. Frasier said . . . uh. I have no idea what she said but it had to do with some toxin and the levels we received in our bloodstream and . . . how quickly Carter got us back here. . ."

"Jack?"

"Yes."

"Thank you anyway."

Jack paused, and looked transfixed a moment in Daniel's gaze. He leaned in and sighed, simply savoring Daniel's nearness and warmth, touching his forehead lightly against his cheek, listening to him breathe.

"You're welcome," he murmured. Daniel sucked in a breath, a small whimper in his throat, sounding so happy for Jack. It was too endearing to resist, and Jack drew his face along his, finding the man's lips and meeting them with his own.

After a slow, sweet kiss, he parted gently, only to sit and gaze at him with grateful eyes.

"Thanks for not dying," Jack said, smiling lightly.

"You too," Daniel returned.

Jack smooshed his face further into the hands he was leaning on, smiling down at Daniel like he was the damn king of Egypt.

"I'll try not to be such a guilt-trippin' sorry ass all the time, ok?"

Daniel laughed.

"Ok."

They sat like that, enjoying each other's presence, without any sense of urgency. Simply lavishing in the moment, the sheer dumb luck at having come across each other, of having known each other in this way.

"A-hem-_hem._"

Lazily, Jack leaned back and turned his head. He grunted,

"Ah. You're back. Damn."

Dr. Frasier smiled patiently.

"That I am. You're supposed to be in bed."

"I know." Jack leaned back into his chair, giving his doctor what he hoped was a disarming smile.

"Just keeping the space monkey company. You know you've got some of the most boring ceilings to stare at that I've ever come across."

Dr. Frasier shuffled past him, picked up the clipboard hooked to the foot of Daniel's bed, and went over to the equipment table, checking the readouts.

"I see you found a way to wake him up. Somehow I'm not surprised. How are you feeling, Daniel?"

"Not bad."

Frasier frowned at the bright-red desert cup in the middle of her equipment and pointedly handed it back to Jack. She turned and took Daniel's wrist, adjusting the pulse indicator taped to it.

"Well you're making a speedy recovery. I don't expect you two needing to stay any more than a few days here. How's your head?"

"Kind of . . . foggy still. Better than before."

Frasier smiled and hooked the clipboard back in place.

"That'll be expected. Let me know if it gets any worse and I can give you something for the headache. This is mostly just a waiting game at this point, though. You're past the worst of it."

"Ok. Thanks, Janet."

"And you-" Jack held up his hands as if to defend against an onslaught and protested,

"You can't yell at me for trying to feed one of your patients."

"Back in bed. You're supposed to be eating something, not giving it away."

Jack grumbled and Frasier threatened to help him back into bed. Jack said he knew the way.

"I'll let the others know you two are ready for visitors, if that's all right."

They murmured their assent. Janet nodded at this and left the room.


	21. Way 77 – Gunshy

**A/N**: Ok, spent all Saturday writing this chapter, now I got to get back to my homework. Heads up to AngelSC for reminding me of the tried-and-true method I use in this chappy. As for everyone else, if you have any more suggestions for Jack's stunts, make them now, because this story's winding to a close. Thank you, all you reviewers, it's great you're having as much fun reading as I am writing. I'll update as soon as I get a break in my homework. Cheers!

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_Way # 77 – Gunshy_

The bed was low and flat and wide, the mattress stuffed with some sort of grain, similar to buckwheat. The sheets were a drab off-white and rough, softer than burlap, but not by much. Despite that, it was a welcome place to sleep, and more comfortable than some of the places his sleeping bag had been camped out on in the past. The pillow was stuffed with the feathers of some native animal, big, poofy grey feathers, and more than made up for the rough sheets and lumpy mattress. Next to his bed sat some sort of nightstand, carved from a tree-trunk, with an oil lamp and a single drawer. His pack sat on the floor next to the nightstand. On the other side of the nightstand was another bed, and beside that a third, all with the same simple arrangements.

He should have known. He really should have, but instead he went to bed without his wrist-watch. It was buried in his pack instead of on his wrist so he wouldn't be woken up by its 6:00 alarm. Daniel didn't like getting up early, he never had, and although he tried to when he was offworld, in the end he'd always end up sleeping in. That became his downfall again and again, because Jack was always an early riser. This morning it had been an itch, while he was somewhere in between sleep and the waking world, and he'd reached up to rub his nose, only to be surprised by a strange sensation when he did so, a fluffy, sticky substance all over his face. Opening his eyes and pulling his hand away to look at it, he gazed a moment without understanding at the white foamy stuff, blinking away sleep from his eyes. He heard a scuffling and some snickering and the bedroom door swing open and slide shut, and brought the foam closer to sniff, running between two fingers, and concluded it was relatively harmless, merely shaving cream. He glanced around the room for the culprit but he was nowhere near. Leaning up in bed, Daniel searched for the glasses he had left on the nightstand, getting them a bit smudged in shaving cream as he located them and put them back on his face. Glancing around some more he caught sight of Teal'c, who was sitting quietly on one of the chairs and cleaning his staff weapon. The Jaffa gave him a somewhat unreadable look as Daniel blinked at him.

"O'Neill has already left to join MavenKaysor for breakfast."

"Oh."

Daniel rubbed at the cream on his glasses and eye and tried to get it off and rub it on a less offending spot on his face. He looked around a moment for something like a kleenex, realized the culture didn't have such an equivalent sitting handily by the bedside, and instead got out of bed and went over to the connecting bathroom. He took off his glasses and set them down on the counter and grabbed a hand-towel hanging on the wall to wipe the shaving cream off his eye. Then he smeared the remainder all around his face and opened his toiletries pack to get a razor, figuring there was no need to waste good shaving cream. Glancing up, he caught Teal'c's eye in the mirror. Daniel commented,

"Getting a bit unoriginal, isn't he?"

Teal'c looked back down to the weapon he was cleaning, the weapon's head in his lap as he opened it to partially dismantle.

"Indeed," he agreed in his usual gruff tone. Daniel dipped the razor in the bowl of water and sighed as he began to shave.

"It's been this way for quite some time now. I'm getting tired of rubber snakes and whoopee cushions."

"Perhaps he has 'lost his touch'," Teal'c suggested, probing the interior of the staff weapon with a small metal rod. Daniel shook his head.

"I don't think that's it. To be honest I think he's gone gunshy."

Teal'c raised a brow and gave Daniel a questioning look. Daniel nodded at him in the mirror.

"You know. His pranks didn't used to be this lame. I doubt he's run out of ideas. He might be immature and narrow-minded at times but he's never short on creativity."

Teal'c gave a slight indication of a smile and a nod, and murmured,

"Your observations on others are usually most accurate, DrJackson."

"Thanks." Daniel dipped the razor in the bowl and shook it about, and returned it to drag across his face. He stared a while in the mirror, lost in thought.

"Ever since the alarm clock incident on that Naquadah World . . . his heart hasn't been in it, you know? It's starting to get worse than when he just jumped on me in the mornings."

"I am curious as to why you consider it worse."

Daniel tapped the razor against the side of the bowl.

"I dunno, at least then he was enthusiastic about it. He's still afraid of getting too rough. He's been giving me all the wussy stuff on the missions."

Teal'c glanced up with a grave expression.

"You believe his judgment as commander has been affected by this?"

"A little, yeah. I won't claim to have the same training as the rest of you guys, I know I'm just the civilian on the team. But I've been through a heck of a lot worse and came out without being killed. I'm not helpless. I don't need special treatment. I don't _want _special treatment."

Teal'c nodded and seriously informed him,

"You have proven to be a most capable warrior in battle, DrJackson."

Daniel laughed slightly. "Yeah. Thanks. I, I think he knows that too. We've all been through a lot together. I guess it's just, whenever emotions start getting involved, he gets all paranoid. . ."

Teal'c slid the head back into place and it reconnected with a kerzappy sound. He looked to Dr. Jackson.

"You mentioned the phrase gunshy. What did you mean by it?"

Daniel blinked and said,

"Ah, gunshy. It means. It comes from when you had a negative experience handling a gun when you're young. Accidental gunshot wound or something. Makes you nervous about using one again."

"As I thought. The Jaffa have a very similar expression."

"I'm not surprised."

"The solution of such a syndrome was to force the young Jaffa into a situation requiring them to defend themselves."

"Sounds a bit unfriendly."

"It is necessary."

Daniel pulled on his shirt.

"Well that might be true in your case but it doesn't seem to help in mine."

Teal'c put away the small tools he had used in cleaning his weapon.

"Perhaps it can be of use after all."

Daniel frowned as he zipped up his pants.

"How?"

Teal'c leaned the staff on the floor and gave a small smile.

"It would seem you merely need to convince ColonelO'Neill that he is not attacking a helpless victim. Some sort of counterattack on your part would be appropriate."

Daniel stared at Teal'c a moment and broke out into a grin.

"Teal'c! Are you telling me to pull some stunt on Jack?"

Teal'c answered cautiously,

"I am not, DrJackson. I am simply offering a possible solution for you to consider."

"Uh-huh." Daniel sat on another chair to put on his socks.

"And would you happen to have any specific ideas on what this possible solution would entail?"

Teal'c hesitated, but then agreed quite eagerly,

"There are several tactics that have occurred to me."

Daniel chuckled as he laced up his shoes.

"How do you think Jack would feel about you conspiring against him with me?"

"I have helped him in the past with the respected Tauri tradition of 'practical jokes.' As I have come to understand them, it would be considered fair for you to exact your revenge."

Daniel smiled at the Jaffa warrior.

"All right, Teal'c. Why don't you tell me more about these tactics of yours."

……………………………………..

"Hey, Carter."

Sam looked up from her work.

"Oh, hi, sir. You're actually a bit early. The presentation's not scheduled until twenty minutes from now."

"I am? I could've sworn I read it for right now. . ."

"That's okay, sir. You can go back to helping give the Maven our tour of the facility, if you want. The General told me he's been quite a talkative guest."

Jack blinked, tossed a nervous glance over his shoulder, and observed hesitantly,

"I, uh, am well aware of that. I had breakfast with him this morning. I was kind of hoping to limit my contact with him . . ."

Sam gave him a reprimanding look,

"Colonel! We're supposed to be friendly to our new allies."

"I know. I'm doing my part to ensure our relationship continues to be friendly. That's just going to require a little less contact."

Carter smiled at him in sympathy.

"I guess you could help me finish up here. As long as you don't touch anything."

Jack took a seat on one of the lab benches,

"Sounds good to me. Whatcha up to?"

Sam gestured to the pile of madness on her lab table,

"I've been spending all morning trying to find a way to properly interface this piece of equipment with our own technology. I think I finally got all the kinks worked out."

"So this thing is pretty kinky, huh? What's it do?" Jack asked, grinning.

The Major gave him a look and then went back to dinkering with the little machine.

"The Maven called it a Yaza-Guno. I'm not exactly clear on all the details. It has to do with light and sound. The light it generations is on a specific spectrum, and the sounds on specific frequency, that correlate so that they represent different mathematical formulas. It's a model."

Jack peered at her blankly. She paused and tried a different tack,

"It's a music box with lights."

"Oooh."

"Ran on a very strange source of energy. The entire thing is mechanical, not digital, yet highly complex. It was not easy getting this thing to run on our power, believe me. Heck, it took half my time just figuring out how it worked. It's_ really _fascinating . . ."

Jack moaned, dropping his head in his hands.

"You're making me reconsider which the better of two evils is right now, Carter. I just might rejoin that Mr. Kaysor at this rate."

Carter rolled her eyes.

"There's no reason to be dramatic, sir. I need you to do me a favor, all right?"

Jack straightened up in his seat.

"Huh? Me? Involving this thing?"

"Don't worry, sir, it's nothing difficult. I just need to get one of the Maven's tools he lent me from storage, I'll be right back."

Jack's eyes went a little wide and he protested,

"Wait a minute! Why can't I just go do that? I can be a gopher, I don't want to touch this thing!"

Sam put a hand on her hip and gave him a skeptical look,

"Do you know what an alien harmonic recalibrator is? Could you pick out from a group of other tools?"

Jack considered her a moment and then relented,

"All right, _no_, but I'm telling you Carter, go find some hapless victim elsewhere, I don't-"

"Colonel, look. All I want you to do is watch it, okay? That's all."

Jack paused. "That's all?"

The Major nodded. She pressed something and the small machine warmed up. Rods began to rotate and spin and little lights blinked on and off, and it emitted a quiet whirring sound.

"Ooo . . ." Jack murmured, entranced by the machine.

"Look, if it starts making noise, just press the little blue button, okay?"

Jack nodded slowly, still glued to the machine, but then snapped out of it and went,

"Wait! No! Hold on, Carter!"

"See? Right there, that little blue button at the base."

"_Major_."

"I swear, sir, that's all you have to do," Carter insisted, hovering next to him, wanting to leave.

"What if this thing explodes on me or something? What if the noise I hear is the wrong noise? What if-"

"_Any_ noise at all, sir."

"It's making noise right now."

"Okay. Any noise at all besides the noise it's making now."

"Carter!"

"I'll be _right back,_ I swear. The Maven will be here soon, I just need to make one last adjustment. You'll be fine, sir, I'm sure."

Jack didn't agree, but he stopped protesting, and Sam took that as consent and began to leave the room. Jack nervously watched her go and then lost his courage. He yelled at her,

"Carter! I thought you said I could help as long as I didn't _touch anything!_"

"You'll do fine, Colonel. You probably won't even need to do anything."

With that, she vanished from the lab. Jack swallowed and looked back to the machine whirring on the lab table. There it was, blinking and moving about. Stupid thing. Jack scowled down at it.

"You get me in trouble and I'm gonna _smash you,_" Jack growled at it. Then he considered how effective it would be to threaten a light-up music box. Probably not much.

He watched it like a hawk while Sam was gone. The device was small, no bigger than a bread box, more like toaster-sized, really. It had a fat oval base and a series of long, curved mechanical rods spurting from the base. They reminded him of the diagrams he'd looked at of the planet's orbits in the solar system. Each curved rod was moving independently of the others, spinning around and around in a circular orbit, forming a complex series of moving rods. The rods had small blinking lights attached to them and motion was dizzying and it looked like the rods ought to run into each other in their orbits but never did. They blinked on and off, green, blue, red, purple, yellow . . . sort of soothing to look at. Jack quickly grew to like the machine, whatever it was.

Then the music started playing. Jack raised his brows, startled when it began to emit the sounds. They were plinky and metallic and he'd be darned if they didn't sound exactly like old-fashioned music boxes. Sam was right, the blinking of the lights and the notes seemed to correspond with each other. It was quite nice.

"Ack!"

Jack jumped a little when he remembered he was supposed to be doing something, and he nervously examined the base of the machine. There was only one button, which was very good. It gave him no chance to confuse it with another button. Yet, something about it now deeply disturbed him. The button was no longer blue, it was now red. Carter had called it the little blue button. The goddamn thing had changed color on him. Should he still push it? He quickly examined the machine for other buttons or thingies and found none. He swallowed as it merrily plinked away, wondering what would happen if he _didn't_ push the button. He had to! It was still the same button, after all, it had just changed colors! Red usually meant something bad, but, Hell, this was an alien culture, so maybe red was a good thing to them!

"Argh!" Jack groaned and quickly reached out and pushed the little button, before he could change his mind. He braced himself but nothing seemed to happen. He peered curiously at the device. It continued to tinkle and blip, blink and whirr along. Huh. That didn't seem so bad. Did it . . . did he press the button hard enough? Did it register? Was it supposed to do something different? Jack pondered this when suddenly the behavior of the machine dramatically changed. The music became different, faster and more higher-pitched. The rods began to rotate more quickly and lights blinked faster. Jack watched it nervously. He didn't like this new sound. It was whiny and sort of painful to listen to. And it just seemed to be going faster and faster. Jack's eyes gradually grew wider and wider as he witnessed the little music box go into overdrive, spinning at an incredibly insane rate, lights flashing nearly nonstop, screechy music coming from it like a dying Goa'uld or something equally horrid.

"Shit! Make it stop! Make it stop!"

Jack got up from his seat and backed up a step or two, getting that sinking feeling in his stomach that something Very Bad was about to happen, something he should not be near the epicenter to. Oh, it was bad. It was screeching so loud they no doubt could hear it from all the way down the corridor. Jack winced, his teeth set on edge, holding his hands up as if readying to block himself, and then the worst of all his fears were realized. The machine made a sudden, violent sound, sort of like a mechanical belch ripping through the gears, all its lights flashed bright at once, and the spinning rods smashed into each other's paths and went flying apart.

At this time, Carter came back from her trip, harmonic recalibrator in hand, coming up from behind Jack. She followed his gaze to the machine on her table.

"Uh . . ." she said. A small amount of smoke floated up from the machine, and it made a small sputter sound, but other than that was quiet. Jack squeaked in surprise at Sam's "uh" and whipped around to see it was her.

"What . . . happened?" Sam asked, gazing at the carnage wide-eyed. Jack nervously explained,

"I watched it! And—and—it started playing music! So I pressed the button like you said! Except, only, it was suddenly a red button instead of a blue one-"

"Wait a minute! You pressed the RED BUTTON?"

Jack stopped short and stared at her.

"There was only one button on the base. You said so yourself. So I pushed it when it made noise. Just like you said. Except it had turned red instead of blue."

Sam shut her mouth and winced.

"Urrrgh. I, uh. Mm. I meant blue button. Not if it was red. Red is . . . red is very bad."

Jack looked agape and cried,

"That's what I _thought! _But—but-"

"Calm down, it's all right. We might still be able to fix things, sir, hold on."

She went over to the remains of the machine to examine. Jack followed carefully from behind.

It did not look good. Sam examined the machine for a little bit, prodding it with her borrowed tool for a moment. Jack gazed about at all the metal rods, sprayed across the whole table and off onto the floor in all directions. Carter set the tool down and called it.

"Yep. Looks like it's toast, sir."

Jack glared at her, quickly getting angry.

"I'm going to sound like a broken record, Carter, but did I NOT WARN YOU? Did I not SAY I should NEVER touch something on this Table of Evil of yours?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd press the red button, sir," Carter said reasonably.

"THERE WAS ONLY ONE BUTTON!"

"Excuse me . . . are we interrupting?"

Both Jack and Sam looked up from the lab table to the doorway. There was the Maven, and there was the tired-looking General. Carter plastered on a fake grin and approached them cheerfully,

"Maven Kaysor! Welcome to the science lab!"

"Thank you very much Samantha Carter," the Maven accepted jovially,

"Thank you very much indeed. It's exciting to be here. The General tells me this is where much of the magic happens in the base."

"Oh, well. The General's very, ah, kind, sir. We do a lot of the initial examination here of new technology, but then it gets sent over to the Pentagon . . ."

"Yes, yes. This is definitely where the excitement's at. And you're the mistress of this realm, aren't you, now? Ruler of the alchemy lab? Indeed. I'd love to see more, Major, this whole place. I'm thrilled and honored to be a part in all this. My, my, look at this place, looks expensive indeed."

"Aah, Major Carter. I believe we came here to see a demonstration, were we not?" the General interrupted. The poor guy did look a bit run-down after being the personal tour guide of their new ally for most the morning. A guy can only take so much chatter.

"Er. Yes, General. About that . . ."

Kaysor clasped his hands together eagerly.

"Ooh yes, the Yaza-Guno I leant you people. How's that going? Having fun picking at things and examining them, are we? I knew you'd enjoy that. One of our finest devices, that machine. We're quite proud of it, indeed. I was looking forward to seeing the thing working on your stronger fuel source. Fun bit of experiment, won't it be? I promise it will be a real treat for the eyes as well as the ears. It's much like poetry, you know."

"A-hem, yes. Well, Maven sir, about that. I did get the device functioning on our fuel source for a time . . ."

Suddenly the middle-aged man spotted Jack, who had been cowering behind Carter, and he came up and clasped the man's shoulders cheerfully.

"Colonel O'Neill! Aaah, so good of you to make it! I'm pleased you're here to witness this demonstration with us! Haha, didn't even see you back there at first, mind my manners, good sir."

"Er. Yeah. No problem." Jack said quietly.

Kaysor beamed,

"Oh, you truly have a brilliant commander on your hands, General Hammond, if you don't mind me saying so. We had the most splendid time this morning discussing his missions on the SG-1, didn't we, Colonel? It's such a blessing to meet such wonderful, hospitable people. I think that you shall especially be able to appreciate this, O'Neill, to see my fine craft in motion. You'll see what a delight it is."

Jack looked sick to his stomach.

"Carter, _tell him_," he hissed.

"Uh . . ."

"Tell him what?" Hammond asked suspiciously. Carter swallowed and braced herself, looking highly uncomfortable.

"Well, sir. As I was trying to explain. I got the device working for some time. And, uh . . . well there was a problem, sir . . ."

The General didn't seem yet aware of the magnitude of the problem, for he didn't look too concerned.

"I see. Will you be unable to demonstrate at this time then?"

"Uh. You could say that, sir, yes . . ."

Jack winced so that the two of them had similar expressions of deep, suppressed terror. It didn't take the General too long to pick up on it. The Maven was less than intuitive in this instance and stood by innocently with a curious expression.

"I get the impression this problem is worse than you're letting on, Major."

Sam bit her lower lip.

"There was a bit of an accident," she relented, stepping aside, so that they could see the lab table. They followed her gaze. The General's expression was rather blank, as he wasn't even sure what it was he was looking at. The Maven was unreadable at first. He slowly approached the table.

"Oh . . . my. The . . ." he reached out gently to touch the singed shell that used to be the Yaza-Guno.

"The . . . emissary . . ."

Jack gawked and looked at Carter with horror.

"Emissary?" he squeaked. The General shifted nervously.

The Maven turned with a sober expression and looked to Sam. He explained,

"The, ah, this device was given to me by my father, and to him by his father, and to him by his father's father, and so on . . . it's been a part of my royal heritage for generations. It was prophesized that one day it would play a very important role in the friendship of a new people, from another world . . . that is why it was my gift to you. I had hoped—I had believed—that its destiny was to be fulfilled now."

Sam looked at him with total bewilderment.

"You never told me any of that when you said you'd loan it to me! You acted like you had many devices of this type and that it was worth the risk for such an experiment, with a very real chance of possibly damaging it!"

Kaysor nodded to her.

"I know. You were not meant to be told. To be aware of the gift's true value would have undermined the test."

The General looked at the Maven sternly and asked,

"What kind of test, Kaysor?"

"The test," he said, "Of whether the prophecy was true."

He turned and gestured to the charred remains of the alien machine.

"I want to know exactly how _this_ happened," he said, anger creeping into his voice. The General blinked and looked to his Major somewhat helplessly and pleadingly. Jack couldn't stand it any more.

"I did it," he confessed loudly,

"I blew up your machine, Kaysor. It was an accident, Carter only left me alone with it for a minute. I'm- sorry."

The General raised a brow at Carter and asked her,

"You left him alone with the machine?"

"I only had him watch it for a minute," Carter protested.

"_You_, Colonel O'Neill? But why? I had thought you'd be so appreciative of this device . . ."

"I_ told_ you, it was an accident! Machines hate me, all right? I come within five feet of them and they explode!"

The Maven took a paranoid step backwards and looked at Jack strangely.

"Are you saying that a curse has been placed upon you?"

"Er, uh, well. I don't know, there could be, for all I know . . ."

"Colonel, why don't you let me handle things," the General said tersely, cutting Jack off.

"I want to know exactly how you caused the machine's demise," Kaysor demanded. Jack waved at the remains,

"Carter told me to press the button if it started making noise so I did!"

Kaysor frowned in confusion.

"I do not understand. That should not have destroyed it."

Jack shrugged. Carter helpfully added,

"Um. He said the button was red at the time."

The Maven suddenly went stiff as a board.

"The button was _red? _You pushed the button when it was _red!_"

Jack swallowed. He quietly answered,

"Yes. I pushed it when it was red. I thought it didn't matter."

Kaysor snarled and shook his head.

"I don't believe it. I just don't believe it. I can't associate with a culture that'd have a man push a button_ when it was red! _What kind of lunacy teaches a man that sort of twisted logic that such a thing would be a good idea!"

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but had no idea what to say. He looked to the General, who looked as helpless as Jack did. He looked to Carter, but she didn't have any help to offer either. He looked to the Maven, the short man scowling and glaring, all worked up in a huff. This was insanity. Jack pressed his hands together and looked at the alien man with his most humble and miserable look,

"Please, Maven Kaysor, sir, I really do give my deepest and most sincere apologies. It truly was an accident, please believe me."

The Maven looked less than forgiving and Jack continued to beg piteously,

"I was ignorant of your technology, sir, I can't . . . _please_ don't hold my whole culture accountable for one stupid mistake that I've made. It's entirely my fault, not theirs, sir. I accept the blame entirely, and any punishment there might be. Don't let this destroy all our chances of friendship, I . . . that would be such a waste, sir, please don't."

Kaysor looked to be considering him. He rubbed his thin thoughtfully.

"Well," he murmured reluctantly,

"The destruction _was_ caused by only a single individual, due to extreme negligence. I might be able to accept some kind of compensation from the individual in its place . . ."

Jack looked briefly to his comrades, who nodded at this, so Jack agreed eagerly,

"Yeah, yeah, okay, good! Compensation."

Kaysor looked at him sternly.

"You swear you wish to do this? It will require signing a statement proclaiming full responsibility for the death of the Emissary of Kaysor. Your plea would be based on extreme negligence."

Jack winced and asked,

"Would you mind slightly altering that to just 'negligence' or perhaps 'slight negligence'-"

"And a promise of full personal compensation for the emissary's death due to _extreme_ negligence! _Do you agree?_"

Jack gulped and nodded.

"Yessir, of course sir. I agree."

"Good," Kaysor huffed. The man sniffed and lifted a delicate hand to point,

"Now run along to do my bidding, knave, for you've just agreed to be my personal caretaker for the remainder of your natural life."

Jack blinked and then exploded,

_"WHAT!"_

"Not so loud, knave. I wish you to fetch me my tools from the supply storage and clean up this wretched mess. We'll be taking it back at once. I have much work for you to do."

Jack stood there, jaw agape, simply beside himself. He looked at his friends who were speechless and their usual useless selves.

"General," Jack croaked. Hammond took a moment to compose himself and then nodded curtly.

"You heard what the man said, Colonel."

Jack sputtered in utter disbelief.

"But_ sir!_"

Hammond raised a brow and commanded,

"No _butts_, Colonel. I expect you to carry out the orders you're given."

Jack stared long and hard at the General, trying to discern if the man was serious or not. He certainly wore a dead-serious expression, but then again, didn't he always? He looked to his last possible friend of the lot, Major Carter, and gave her his most sweet appeal.

"Carter . . . you guys aren't going to _honor_ such an unrealistic demand, right?"

Carter hesitated, chewing her lower lip and avoiding eye contact.

"It, uh, the General's decision, sir," she said quietly.

"Wh—all right, all right, that's it. This is ridiculous. This is just . . ." Jack began, unable to even find the words. He stared at the faces watching him expectantly around him. His brows rose up, and something didn't feel right. He looked back at Carter.

"Major," he said, but she still refused to look up.

_"Samantha."_

He caught her blue eyes at last and held them mercilessly. She stumbled and stuttered.

"I, ah, sir, I'm sorry, but . . ."

She emitted a strange sound. She held a hand over her face and coughed, looking away. Jack stared, then reached out and grabbed her wrist, taking her hand away from her mouth. Catching a smirk on her face.

A smile. She cleared her throat and tried smothering it, but it was too late.

"What's going on? Why are you smiling?" Jack demanded.

Sam looked mightily embarrassed and looked at her commanding officer with apologetic eyes. In between snorts, coughs and snickers, she said,

"It wasn't my idea, sir."

Jack turned on the other two with accusation in his eyes. Maven Kaysor was grinning but quickly stepped up to defend himself, saying,

"I wish I could take credit but I was merely invited by your friends to take part in such a jest."

Jack snarled, "What jest? Carter, what have you been spreading around—I'll have your butt in the sling for this and don't think I won't-"

Sam took a few paces back and protested,

"Please, Colonel, it was Teal'c that came to us-"

"_Teal'c? _How could Teal'c do this?" Jack stopped, shocked at this notion.

"It wasn't anything important, sir, don't worry. You didn't destroy the emissary . . ."

Jack wrinkled his nose at her.

"The device was a child's toy, actually . . . we have many like them," Kaysor put in. Sam continued,

"The Maven helped me rig this one to explode at the push of a button . . ."

Jack stared at the two in disbelief.

"I rather think the knave part was a nice touch," Kaysor observed jovially.

Jack looked to General Hammond.

"Sir?" he asked. The older man gave a slight apologetic shrug.

"Considering your history I didn't see any harm in cooperating."

Carter giggled, and Kaysor smirked. Jack frowned, glowering, and said,

"It's not like I didn't know you were all messing with me."

The Maven agreed cheerfully,

"Ah, but of course! A man of your genius would surely be used to seeing through such shallow deceptions by your comrades. I'm glad our foolhardy jocularity troubles you not."

Jack glared and pointed,

"I _knew._ As soon as you put me in charge of that thing, Carter, I knew that wasn't right."

Sam smiled and apologized,

"I'm sorry sir, but I couldn't resist. As soon as I heard Daniel's idea I couldn't just-" Sam stopped short, in the manner one does when realizing they have said something they shouldn't.

"_Daniel? _You said—you said it was Teal'c!"

"Ah, well. Yes and no. It was Teal'c that invited us all to be involved. But, uh, the whole idea with me and the device, and Kaysor and the emissary . . ."

The General gave Jack a cheerful look.

"It certainly added something interesting to my day," he said, clearly pleased at having a distraction from the talkative Kaysor. And an entertaining distraction at that. Great. So Jack was a source of entertainment now.

"Well I'm so glad you found it all so _amusing_. Whatever it takes to entertain our guests, _sir_. No trouble at all-" he turned to the Maven,

"We Earthlings love some good jocularity at the behalf of our friends, sure. Troubles me not in the _slightest_—unless of course you still expect me to be your knave?"

"Ah, no, Colonel, that won't be necessary."

Jack thumbed towards the mess on Carter's table,

"So you won't be needing me to get that?"

"I'm sure I can have someone else clean that up, sir," Sam said.

"I see. All right then."

Hammond cleared his throat.

"The Maven and I should be moving along . . . we have a tour to complete."

Jack grunted,

"Oh, yes, of course. Don't let me keep you. You don't want to miss the rest of the tour, you know. Have fun, Kaysor."

The Maven offered a hand,

"No hard feelings, Colonel O'Neill? I was most sincere in what I said about you. It's just I also like a people that don't take themselves so seriously that they've lost all sense of humor."

Jack studied the man a moment, and then took his hand, smiling reluctantly, giving it a hearty shake.

"You have a good sense of character, Kaysor. Welcome to the base."

"Thank you, sir, thank you very much. I hope we shall talk again soon. Good day, O'Neill."

Jack watched the two of them leave. Carter sighed in relief.

"I'm glad you're not mad, Colonel. Teal'c had suggested looking upon it as a positive opportunity to share in respected cultural traditions."

Jack raised a brow.

"He did, huh? He's a pretty manipulative diplomat, isn't he?"

Sam nodded and admitted,

"He was very convincing."

Jack sighed and observed,

"I suppose I'm partially to blame for rubbing off on him. Maybe I've become too good of a teacher of Tauri customs."

Sam agreed, "Probably."

Jack looked at her. After a pause of just staring at her, she asked,

"What?"

He crossed his arms.

"The General and an outsider, I can let off the hook easily. But I don't know about you."

"I felt terrible the whole time, if that makes you feel any better," she said coyishly.

"Oh, come _off_ it. Don't tell me you didn't thoroughly enjoy being totally mean to me."

She gaped. "_Mean? _I wasn't _mean!_"

"Oh_ yeah_. Oh, you _knew_ how scared I was of that stupid thing. All this button-pushing—God! What was _with_ the red button pushing!"

Carter laughed, looking half-terrified of being smacked, but unable to resist.

"Well you can't be the one to have _all _the fun, can you?"

"Apparently not."

They were quiet a moment, and then Sam started giggling again.

"Carter. Shut up."

"Sorry sir. It's just the color-changing button really was funny."

Jack sighed the sigh of a long-suffering man.

"Why the Hell did it change color anyway?"

Carter smirked, and then grinned.

"What?"

She started laughing again, a delightful, savoring-the-anticipation look in her eyes.

_"What?" _Jack pressed forcefully.

"That was part of Daniel's idea."

Jack frowned in thought. It suddenly became very clear to him who the mastermind behind the scheme truly had been all along.

"He really did design it down to the last detail, didn't he?"

"I give him all the credit," Carter agreed.

Oh, Daniel knew him too well. Jack became lost in thought.

"Sounds like I owe him another visit."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………


	22. Way 78 – Jailbait

**A/N**: Props to AngelSC (again, heh) for fodder for prank ideas, as I incorporate a few more in this chappy, and give em' a new twist.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Way #78 – Jailbait_

It was a hot night on that semi-arid world, and the place was full of these short shrubs with sharp, pointy leaves. They had the hardest time finding a place to pitch the tents. Stickers and burs and tiny little bugs were all over the place, and oddly colored grass with a waxy, slippery texture that their boots kept sliding on when they walked. It was quite a nuisance on the overall. The trees were squat, short little things of knobby bark and things similar to pine-needles. Some were rather cactus-like. They were plentiful, and painful to run into with their various spines and even a sticky sap-like substance dripping from their branches that was itchy as hell. Tiny gnats buzzed in grey clouds and kept getting in their face all day. Night hadn't brought much relief as the temperatures stayed about the same and the nocturnal bugs simply took the next shift. The team had to break down and get out their knives and clear away some of the brush in order to lay the tents out without sharp leaves sticking straight through the bottom. Annoying, but necessary, as they had important business on this world.

Daniel had been a bit cautious at first. He was having a hard time judging Jack's state of mind today. It had been a few days since he'd conspired with Teal'c to launch a counter-attack. This was their first time off-world since then and things had been pretty busy on this mission. He wasn't sure if Jack was in a joking mood. True that you could never be too careful with Jack, because even in the most serious of moments he always found time for . . . interesting diversions. Still, Daniel was uncertain what to think. Jack had been all business on this trip, his serious Colonel self, seemed distanced and stressed. It seemed unlikely Daniel would have to worry about unusual bedside visitations.

So that night, Dr. Jackson went to sleep with little concern for the sort of pranks he had grown so accustomed to. That morning, he would come to regret it.

As Daniel drifted to consciousness, the one thing that he noted right away was how much cooler it seemed that morning. It was so _nice_. He figured that the weather had simply improved, perhaps it was a bit breezier today. Yes. Mm. He could smell coffee, and hear people shuffling around the camp, tin clinking against tin. He also could smell breakfast, whatever it was, smelled like fruit, strangely—hah, now_ that _would be a new one, the Air Force issuing them some real food for a change? Indeed.

Daniel yawned and peered groggily around the tent, wanting to make sure Jack wasn't leaning over him with a giant slug or a bucket of bugs. It was the one thing the man frequently threatened to do, let a bunch of bugs loose in the tent, but he never seemed to actually do it. Daniel sighed in relief when he saw no signs of his impish bunk-mate. The bug thing did creep him out the most, though he had never admitted such to Jack. Somehow Jack must have known anyway though, since that was probably why he continued to threaten it. And never actually do it. Jerk.

Daniel mumbled grouchily and turned to roll on his side, but something hindered his motion. He peered down and just stopped, staring dumbly, unable at first to even understand what he was looking at.

The bottom of the tent. The bright green plastic, right under his chin. It was as if he had become the invisible man, and his body had disappeared. Like he was nothing more than a disembodied, floating head.

"Wha—!"

Daniel yelled and started thrashing, or trying to anyway, struggling to try and feel his body, but there was some incredibly strong barrier holding him back. After flipping out for a few moments he stopped, tried to calm down and come to his senses. Trying to breathe normally, he took stock of his situation.

Okay. He turned his neck from side to side to see. The floor of the tent on his side was bare, save for their two packs they had left in the tent. Usually kept those towards the front of the tent where their feet were, somehow they both got shoved over on Daniel's side. Jack's sleeping bag was over on his own side undisturbed. Something was strange about the tent floor though, ripply.

Daniel tried to move and wriggled a little. He could feel his body. Yes. It was there, it was just hard to move. After some experimentation he watched the tent floor jiggle a little and the optical illusion of his disembodiment vanished at once, having finally clicked into place what had happened. He was under the tent . . . somehow . . . his eye traced the ripple of the plastic and he saw the outline of a rectangle. Jack must have taken a razor and cut straight through the floor of the tent, slid Daniel under, and weighed it back down with the packs . . .

But it was more than just that, as Daniel pushed against the ground, and found he really was stuck. Jack must have dug a hole. In the ground where his sleeping bag had been. But he could still feel the fabric of the inside of his sleeping bag against his skin. He was still in his sleeping bag, so that meant Jack had dug a hole, put him in, and then put the tent floor on top.

In the middle of the night, while Daniel had been asleep, without him knowing.

"Huh, okay, funny. Sam? Hey Sam?" Daniel called, wrestling to try and get free. Nobody was answering him. No doubt everyone was instructed to not come to his immediate aid. He stretched out and pushed his arms against the sides of the bag and kicked, and shoved upwards with his chest, but the walls of his chamber were a tight fit. They had a little give but not much. He knew the dirt on this world was a very sandy soil, and imagined Jack had packed it down pretty tightly on top of him. Still, he wasn't in that deep, so surely he was strong enough to get out on his own. Right?

He pushed against the wall in a few rapid thumps, calling,

"Jack? Teal'c. Come on Teal'c, get the shovel and get me out. I want breakfast."

He tested the limits of his shallow grave and wriggled back and forth and all around, trying to judge the weight on top of him, trying to find any weaknesses. It felt alarmingly compact and concrete. He wasn't sure why, he could only be in a few inches deep. He couldn't even bring his legs together though, they were held fast like his arms in the compact soil on top and below. Jiggling up and down seemed to help loosen things a little.

"You know if I had claustrophobia you'd be in deep shit by now, Jack!" Daniel yelled.

He didn't have claustrophobia, fortunately. The man was accustomed to fitting himself into tight spaces . . . as an archeologist, it was a practical part of life. Some might have been terrified to wake up and realize they were buried alive (from the head down, at least), but it was more of an annoyance than a terror.

"Oof," Daniel murfled, as he pushed against the dirt. What the hell was holding him down so hard? Then his eye fell upon the forgotten packs and he realized. It must have been themdumping all that extra weight on top of him. They certainly weren't helping at any rate. Was there any way he could kick them off? Maybe . . .

"Damn it," Daniel cursed, starting to feel tried from struggling against his burial. He paused to breathe and ponder. It was a little difficult to breathe with the dirt compacted on top of his lungs. He was starting to get hot trapped in his sleeping back with all that struggling. Very annoying. And his face felt sticky and wet, one of the drips in his eye that was especially irritating, but he couldn't do much about it without having any arms or hands. He shook his head and grumbled indignantly. There was that weird smell again. It smelled like fruit. He suddenly felt very angry at the thought of the three of his team-mates sitting just right outside, eating breakfast while he was here under the goddamned ground. He paused to yell more loudly:

"Okay, fun's over with! Get me the heck out of here Jack! You guys hear me? You can't keep me in here forever, we do have work to do!"

He waited to hear any response. It was mostly quiet outside from what he could tell. They were either a little too far from his tent or just not answering. Somehow he suspected the latter.

"I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE!"

Well, no response— he wasn't going to get any help from them anytime soon. He knew they were out there, he could hear stuff shuffling around in the background.

"Goddamnit," he cursed again, blinking and shaking his head, the sticky stuff at the corner of his eye. He sniffed and suddenly wondered why his face felt so darn sweaty. It was almost like some kind of paste was smeared on him, and he was reminded of Jack's stupid shaving cream. But that wouldn't make sense in the context of this stunt. Besides it smelled really weird, like . . .

Daniel licked his lips and then stuck his tongue out to lick some more, snuffling, recognizing the taste as food. It tasted like jam, like strawberry jam. What the hell? Why was . . . why was his face smeared in strawberry jam?

"Shit," Daniel squeaked, mind having jumped to a possible and very disturbing scenario. He began to fight to escape with renewed vigor.

"He wouldn't— no, there's no— I can't even—_rrrrrrgh!_"

There was no use, he had to get those packs off the top of him if he was going to get out. Daniel glanced around in a paranoid manner, scanning for signs of any insect activity in his tent. He didn't see any, but maybe he just couldn't see them. Oh, God, what if they were underground, you don't think he dug right into an ant nest and put Daniel right on top of them, did he?

"JACK!" Daniel howled, jerking and fighting viciously now, tent floor flapping. The Colonel had outdone himself this time, though, because his handiwork was very sound. Daniel kicked and kicked, and the packs jiggled a little, but it was going to take a lot more than that to make them move. Daniel leaned back and took in a deep breath and yelled,

"Jaaaaaaaack!"

Nobody answered him. Daniel was really starting to lose his patience with this man. He could hear noises out there, they were probably just right outside.

"Jack," Daniel began again, in a more calm and reasonable tone, directed at the entrance of his tent,

"Come on now. Let's be practical. I know we got to break camp and get underway soon. Granted, I can't quite see my watch at the moment . . . but I know we've got to get going. So just let me out already." Daniel paused. "Okay?"

He kept quiet as he heard more sounds from outside. Nobody was speaking but they were moving around. The grass was shuffling under footfalls. After a few moments a shadow fell on Daniel's flapping tent wall.

"Jack, you've had your fun . . . very clever, yeah. I don't know how the hell you did all this without me waking up . . . are you listening to me?"

The shadow moved, but something was off. It was too short to be Jack. As it drew closer, it didn't sound right. Its breathing was scratchy and weird. Daniel swallowed, his body stiffening, detecting danger. There was something wrong here. He felt his pulse leap into his throat, and then the tent flap began to move . . .

A few moments later he was peering straight into a pair of golden-orange eyes, set on a curious, unfamiliar face. It was the gaze of a predator, this much Daniel knew immediately. Eyes close together for binocular vision, just like his own. It had a long furry snout and big, pointed ears with furry tufts on the end. A sizeable pair of yellowish tusks protruded from its mouth where its canines would have normally been. It blinked its eyes at Daniel.

Dr. Jackson swallowed again and remained very, very still.

The animal inched into the tent a little further, cautiously, sniffing with its big snout. It was about the size of a dog, a smaller dog. It stepped in on cloven feet, and thoroughly sniffed around the floor of the tent. It would look up at Daniel and then back down to where it sniffed. It was very nervous at first, kept jumping every time the sound of the plastic tent rustled, didn't like the sound. It seemed reluctant to enter the alien enclosure. But that soon changed and it quickly grew bolder and came all the way inside.

Daniel tried to hold his breath. The animal was pretty large. It had a long, sleek body with a long, thin, furry tail, tufted at the end. Its fur was sleek and a straw yellow, ticked in darker brown, and a dark black on its ears, tufts, and muzzle. Standing on thin, hooved legs, it looked adapted for running. It picked around on the ground, investigating Jack's sleeping bag, scratching at the ground with its tusks and sniffing. Watching it, Daniel theorized it might just go on its way after it had finished investigating . . . it didn't even seem to be entirely aware of Daniel's presence, though it did continue giving him nervous glances. It continued to merrily pick along and chew on the sleeping bag and poke at the plastic ground, which it found very fascinating, its tail held low in a calm posture. But it had caught the scent of something that it liked, and it didn't take long for Daniel to deduce what that was.

Those amber eyes returned to Daniel's. He felt in true danger then. Surely Jack hadn't known some other animal would have come along, but however it had happened Daniel's face now looked like a meal to a very toothy looking critter. The animal seemed to pick up on Daniel's fear. Its ears flattened and it raised its tail a little. A low growl escaped from its lips and it bore its teeth at Daniel.

"Uh, n—nice doggy," Daniel tried quietly, knowing he had to try something. The animal stiffened and began to lash its tail, pushing into the ground with its hooves. It growled a little louder at Daniel—

_Gvrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmm!_

Dr. Jackson nervously eyed the pair of tusks on the creature, which came to pretty sharp points, a bit like a saber-cat's.

"Shh-shh, I'm ah...I'm not gonna hurt you," Daniel murmured, acutely aware of the fact that the feeling was _not_ mutual for the animal. It pawed the ground with its left hoof angrily, snarling, partially opening its mouth and emitting a new threatening sound. It sounded like a cross between a hiss and a moan. Daniel did _not _like how things were headed. He began to push at his prison again, although rather futilely.

The wild animal protested when Daniel started moving around and took a dangerous step closer, shouting its strange call right in Daniel's face,

_Krrrrrrrrroooooooooooaaaaahhhhhhh!_

Daniel froze, like a deer in headlights, transfixed by the pair of curved yellow tusks and the rows of teeth now showing. He simply froze and stayed that way, unable to do anything more. The animal lurched forward another foot and as those fangs descended upon Daniel's face, he closed his eyes instinctively and braced himself, hoping the gouges would hit the side of his face and miss his eyes.

His skin was met with a rough, wet sensation, and he waited to feel the tearing of flesh and the trickling of blood, the snapping of cartilage. But there was none.

Daniel opened his eyes and peered about in confusion, wondering where the animal had gone. He saw its big black snout and big yellow tusks right in his face, and he yelped in utter fear.

The animal did not respond to that though and continued to lap at Daniel's face with a long, pink tongue. It made happy little 'murr' sounds as it did so, and snuffed its sticky nose with pleasure.

"Uuuhg—oh—ick—eurrr—hey. Hey get off."

Daniel wrenched his face into a disgusted expression and watched the creature lick its lips and draw its slobbery tongue across Daniel's cheek.

"Oh, God— stop it! Euck! Jack. Jack! Jack, for the love of God, where are you? _Aaagh!_"

_Murrrrvvvvvrrr_, purred the critter, and it licked Daniel's nose thoroughly. He coughed and sputtered.

"JACK!"

_Vvvrrrr_, the animal chirped in reply, lapping away at the jam. Daniel spat and squirmed as the animal's tongue got on his lips.

"Heeheee."

Dr. Jackson struggled to move his face away and see, and out of the corner of his eye could see Jack standing at the entrance of the tent.

"_Jack!_ For the love of—ppffftppp! Goddamn it Jack get me OUT of here!"

"But Danny, it looks like you're having such a good time."

"Gah!" The animal pressed its nose into Daniel's face and lapped at the side of his head, its tusks pressing into his skin but harmlessly so. It seemed to have no intent to injure him, at least at the moment.

"Don't worry, Daniel. She won't bite. She has excellent manners."

Daniel tried to look at Jack in the eye as he growled,

"I don't CARE if she won't bite, just get it OFF me!"

"Aaaw. She's just showing she loves you. Isn't that right, Tok'ra?"

The animal murred happily in response at Jack and went back to licking Daniel's left ear. Daniel struggled against his dirt trap and exclaimed,

"You NAMED it— Jack, is this thing domesticated? Has it been screened for diseases or anything?"

"Uh. She just sort of wandered into camp. . ."

_"Jack it's eating my face!"_

Jack started laughing again, to Daniel's exasperation. The animal began to nibble on Daniel's ear and he squeaked in a high voice,

"_Jack!_ Get it off me now!"

"Okay, okay. I guess you've had enough," Jack observed, taking his sweet time, watching the animal sniffing all over Daniel's head and nibbling on locks of hair. Jack patted his leg and leaned down a little,

"C'mere, Tok'ra! C'mon! C'mere girl!"

The animal turned and gave a strange call and bounded over to Jack energetically. It let him pat her head. Daniel watched in disbelief as Jack scratched behind its ear.

"You have it _trained_?"

"I told you she was friendly."

He patted it on the back and she raised her tail and curled it around Jack's arm.

"Jack, the General's gonna _kill_ you. We have no idea what this thing could be carrying. It's a wild animal!"

"Not exactly. More like feral. That lady what's-her-name mentioned the problems they've been having with feral populations around here and—"

"That's the same difference."

"No it isn't, Mr. Walking Dictionary, and you know it."

Daniel sighed, knowing an argument with Jack was futile, especially when he was buried underground with jam and animal spit all over his face. That didn't exactly give him an advantage.

"Are you going to get me out of here anytime soon?"

Jack gazed down at the irate head of Dr. Jackson.

"Unfortunately I'm gonna have to. We got a busy day ahead of us. Hey. A-head. Heh . . . that's good."

Tok'ra had wandered back over to Daniel and was sniffing at him, tail raised in friendly greeting, clucking happy sounds.

"Jack! It's getting too close again!"

"You sure you don't want the pig-dog to finish cleaning you up before I dig you out?"

Daniel kicked and punched at the dirt on top of him and made angry shooing sounds at the animal trying to lick him again.

"Let me put it this way Jack, I think you're going to deeply regret this once I get out of here."

Jack grinned and clasped his hands,

"Oooh, is that so? I'm looking forward to it already."

"O'Neill?"

Jack turned his head to see the large Jaffa, armed with a shovel, peer into the tent.

"Has sufficient time passed so that we may unbury DrJackson?"

"Uh, yeah. He's had enough."

"Backstabber," Daniel shot at Teal'c irritably.

"I prefer to consider myself a neutral party," Teal'c responded.

Tok'ra started licking Daniel's face again and he yelled in protest.

"Jaaaack!"

"Tok'ra, stop, c'mere girl. Don't you love her, Danny? I'm hoping they'll let me keep her."

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	23. Way 80 Covert Operation

A/N: Yes, this took me somewhere near forever to update. I'm aware of that. I feel guilty, if that's any consolation. . .

Seriously, though. I want to thank all the reviewers for this story. I'm humbled at how many people reviewed, I'm glad you all enjoyed it so much. :o) This is the second-to-last chapter, I feel this story's gone on long enough, heh. Anyway, thanks again, all. ;o)

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_Way #80 - Covert Operation_

Somewhere, in the middle of a forest, in the middle of a previously unknown-planet, a small circle of people were sitting on fold-out chairs around a camp fire. They had thin tree limbs stuck into the orange flames, and peacefully conversed, their voices blending with the sounds of crackling from the fire.

"This food item appears entirely void of nutritional content," Teal'c observed as he read the list of ingredients on the back of the bag of marshmallows.

"That's the point," Jack said, voice slightly muffled from food.

"The pinch of carbon probably adds a little nutritional content," Sam speculated as she tried to blow out her flaming marshmallow.

"I believe it would be unwise to consume these 'mushmellows'," Teal'c said, almost nervous sounding.

"They're not that bad, Teal'c. At least try one," Daniel suggested. Teal'c eyed the bag very warily.

"He's right. They're way safer than MREs, T."

"Very well. I shall sample one," Teal'c relented. He took one from the bag and stuck it to the stick, and then mimicked the others' behaviors, sticking it towards the fire.

"Good. Don't get it too close, just enough to toast it, not incinerate it," Daniel instructed.

"Unless you like them that way," Carter added, eating her burned candy with sticky fingers.

"Eeew," Jack opined, giving Sam a disgusted look.

"They're good!" Sam protested.

"You can munch on a bag of briquettes next then."

Samantha stuck her tongue out at him, grossly displaying burnt sticky marshmallow, giggling. Jack drew back like it was a hideous chewed up insect.

"Fer cryin' out loud, Carter, you sure are picking up bad habits around us."

Sam finished her marshmallow and gave him a sly smile.

"Sorry, sir. It seems your complete lack of civil behaviors is highly contagious."

Jack snorted.

"Huh, _right._ Like it's all me. These other two aren't exactly the best influence in the universe, either."

"I take offense to that, O'Neill," Teal'c calmly informed him as he roasted his marshmallow.

"Who has the bag?" Daniel asked. Jack leaned down and tossed the marshmallows to Daniel.

"I didn't mean any offense by it, but you've got to admit, nobody here strikes me as an ideal role model."

Daniel affixed a new mallow to his stick and put it into the camp fire.

"That may be true, O'Neill, yet I believe there to be many redeeming qualities our unit has that you easily overlook."

Jack grinned at the Jaffa.

"Ah, Teal'c, ever the optimist. You're right. Heck, we've saved the planet more times than the average person, so we must be doing something right, huh?"

"I like to think so," Daniel agreed.

"Gimmie another marshmallow," Sam told Daniel, grinning at him. He smirked, picked the bag up, and she skewered one with her stick.

Teal'c was staring at his roasted mallow, still on the stick. He sniffed it and hesitated.

"Just . . . just eat it, Teal'c. Trust me. It's good."

"I do trust you, O'Neill. My difficulty lies largely with the fact that this particular human delicacy resembles an insect on my homeworld."

"Really?" Jack asked, peering at his own skewered food.

"Taj'an grubs," Teal'c specified.

"Uh huh. Thanks for the mental image."

The smoke from their fire twisted and climbed, as if an endless ladder leading directly up into the sky. The stars were all out by now and they crowded in that dark abyss as an overwhelming melee of light. Looking up, Jack knew them well, from many points in the galaxy.

"It does not taste of Taj'an grubs," Teal'c announced, now slowly chewing on the marshmallow stuck to the limb.

"That's a relief."

"I told you they weren't bad," Daniel said.

"Indeed. I find the taste to be most agreeable."

Jack smiled. He pulled off his mallow, tossed his stick aside, and popped it in his mouth.

"I could think of worse ways to wrap up a day of work."

Daniel nodded in quiet assent. Carter poked the fire with her stick.

"What time should we get started tomorrow, sir?"

Jack shrugged.

"So long as it's no later than ten-hundred. There's no need to rush at this point."

"I wish to consume another mushmellow," Teal'c requested. The bag was passed around to him.

"That's good," Daniel murmured.

"Hm?" Sam looked to him.

"Having time, I mean."

"Oh, yeah. It's nice when we don't have to rush because somebody's trying to kill us," she agreed.

"Carter," Jack said in a warning tone, giving her a stern look.

She sighed and tapped the logs with her stick,

"Knock on wood, that is," she said indulgently in the Colonel's direction.

"_Thank_ you."

"What is the purpose of that?" Teal'c wondered.

Jack gestured,

"Too many perfectly good missions wasted by someone going and jinxing our good luck is all."

Teal'c raised a brow, but chose to not pursue it further.

"I guess if I'm really lucky, I might even get some actual _sleep _off world," Daniel commented casually.

Jack chuckled, somewhat evilly, gazing at the team-mate sitting opposite from him, firelight flickering.

"That's what _you_ think, is it?"

Sam waved her burning stick around a bit.

"You have been pretty relentless, sir. I think it's been at least three or four months since you've . . ." Carter searched for the right words. Daniel jumped in for her.

"Launched the campaign to drive Daniel Jackson insane?"

"Either that or turn him into a paranoid insomniac," she grinned.

"Well I have to be fair, Carter. I'm the type of man who keeps his word. I haven't reached 100 yet."

Sam gave him a doubtful look.

"You've really been keeping track? It seems like it should have been that many by now."

Jack shook his head.

"Nope, not quite."

"I don't suppose there's any chance you'd consider quitting early?" Daniel asked wearily.

Jack smiled, watching the shadows leap and dart across the other man's face.

"That wouldn't be fair. I still have a few surprises left for you, Danny. I don't think you'll wanna miss out on them."

Carter grinned and poked the fire, causing it to flare up a little and sputter.

"Can I watch?" she asked, smirking at the poor victim-to-be beside her.

Jack leaned back in his chair, casting his gaze skywards, and carefully worded,

"You'll have to sit this one out, Major. It's gonna be a strictly two-person situation."

Sam raised her brows, glancing to Daniel. The archeologist didn't respond at first, but then he started,

"Wait-- what? It is?"

"I'll say no more," Jack murmured quietly, looking very focused on his star gazing. Daniel glanced back to Sam and shifted uncomfortably under her intrigued smile.

Night was peaceful on that world. The team finished eating far too many marshmallows, eventually put out the fire, and went to their respective tents to sleep.

After the short and unceremonious preparations for bed, each crawled into their own sleeping bag, and Jack switched off the flashlight.

For a while they laid there and said nothing. Daniel listened to the quiet sounds of the forest, and smelled the smoke still on their clothing. He let his mind drift gently over the memories of the day for a while.

Eventually, as he felt himself starting to drift off, he spoke.

"Jack?"

There was a mumble and Jack shifted in his sleeping bag.

"Yeah?"

The voice came right beside him. It was very dark on this world, though, and he could barely see an outline next to him, let alone an expression.

"What are you planning on doing this morning?"

There was a quiet chuckle.

"Telling you would defeat the purpose of a surprise, now, wouldn't it?"

Daniel propped his head up, leaning on his elbow.

"I guess. I just . . . well . . . I was a little concerned . . ."

"It won't be horrific, I can promise you that."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Oh."

A slight pause. Daniel continued.

"I mean, there are certain things . . . things I'd prefer the entire SGC to not catch wind of. That might be considered inappropriate."

"Aaahh."

"That might be mutually jeopardizing to careers, I mean."

Another pause.

"I don't think there's any danger of that," Jack murmured.

"Mm?"

"I can be very covert when necessary," Jack explained.

"Oh . . ."

"When the situation calls for it."

"Yeah . . ."

"And then there is the matter that we're largely alone here."

Daniel blinked in the blackness, trying to see more than an inky outline of Jack's head.

"Usually just SG-1 on these trips. Which has no problems keeping to itself when needed."

"True . . ."

"So there's really just one thing it comes down to."

Daniel raised a curious eyebrow.

"What's that?"

There was a span of silence and Daniel wondered if Jack was going to answer. Suddenly, though, he felt breath on his skin and jumped a little in surprise. The figure loomed over him so that the entire world was swallowed up and he couldn't see a single thing. But he could feel.

Hot breath whispered in his ear slowly;

"It comes down to which one of us will wake up first."

Daniel swallowed and took in a breath. The figure distanced itself and returned to its position beside him and then remained still.

Daniel laid there a while. He had a feeling that falling asleep wasn't going to be easy tonight.

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	24. Way 101 Payback

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_Way # 101 - Payback_

His pillow smelled like fabric softener and cedar moth balls, and it reminded him of his mother's closet, where he snuck into and hid as a young boy-- whenever he didn't want to do chores, or just was seeking solitude.

It was a soothing thought, from so very long ago. He would make his private clubhouse there, in that hidden nook, and would spend hours in there with his dog, playing with his toys. He played with toy cars and plastic army men, and with the dog's chew toys, like the plushie lamb with the ear gnawed off.

Jack rolled over in his sleep and did not stir any further. That long-term, deeply embedded mental alarm that always got him up at the crack of dawn was much weaker now. He was able to finally push against it with enough force to stay blissfully stupefied when he wanted to; and to achieve the kind of luxury he hadn't allowed himself since his retirement. His premature retirement, that is.

In short, Jack had not felt this comfortable in a very long while. Comfort was something he always took for granted. He felt it was simply a luxury that he couldn't afford to have. It certainly wasn't_ necessary_. He was so used to living uncomfortably that it felt normal to him-- the way things were genuinely supposed to be, simply a part of who he was. It's not like he thought he was really missing anything worthwhile.

In the here and now, though, Jack saw things differently. That deep feeling of comfort that was still so new for him to grasp; that radiated out from his world and he peacefully dozed in the epicenter of now; he was coming to see it not as a luxury in life. A luxury was an added perk, something a person could easily live without, the mere cherry on top. It was something that some people didn't even deserve to have, and was more like a reward meant for the few lucky or deserving.

Sometimes it still felt that way, like Jack was merely lucky, that he was being indulgent in a sort of thing he didn't really deserve, that it was greedy, childish, and even unfair. There was a new sense, though, one that told him that this comfort was not just a temporary coddling to his faculties, but instead a symptom of something larger and more significant. It was a sense that something was deeply _right_ in his world, and that before, something had in fact been deeply wrong-- or perhaps not so much wrong as simply _not right_. It was a bit confusing to think about, but there were moments when clarity punched through. Jack never used to sleep in before; and now he had been more and more lately. It wasn't about that thing alone, of course. It was about dozens of little things he didn't let himself do or didn't ever bother with before. It was about big things too, like taking the time to think about stuff he normally never pondered.

All this change was slightly alarming, but for some reason Jack had a hard time worrying much over it. The memories of an older time replayed through his head. What he had before and lost; he had always assumed that it was utterly irrevocable, a single chance in a lifetime. And what he had now certainly was not the same as what he had then. But it was comparable in one key factor.

He felt a sort of comfort that told him he wasn't just taking things day by day anymore. It was a sort of comfort that he assumed he'd never experience again, that he was simply _past _now, that was a quality unobtainable for his age and history, that would have been a waste of time to try and expect. For whatever the reason, it came back to him, and in a manner that was entirely out of the blue. Of course, unexpected didn't make it any less uninvited.

That comfort was that he was _living_ his life, not just drifting along for the ride. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, he was doing more than just okay. Maybe he was ending up with entirely way more than he ever dreamed of getting. Maybe he actually deserved living a life where he was comfortable in his own bed again.

"Ah-haaa. I see the tables have turned, haven't they, my Colonel?"

Daniel stood peering down at the sleeping man. He had awoken, showered, and came back to find him still softly snoring. He watched, hands on hips, a bit surprised at being in this unusual position, where he was awake long before his partner was.

"I suppose this is a rare opportunity," Daniel pondered out loud.

Truth be told, Dr. Jackson wasn't one to hold grudges, but he wasn't one to forget quickly, either. After all, Daniel had put up with a great deal indeed. And he was a firm believer that turnabout was fair play.

"The question is, what would be best?"

Daniel considered the dozing man a moment. Their bed was a mooshed pile of blankets and sheets strewn about at random. It had the kind of casual worn-in and well-used flair that Jack seemed to bring to just about everything he touched. Their entire bedroom was that way, as was the rest of the house. It was one of the things Daniel loved about him. The brand was just so distinctly_ Jack_. Like the furniture in the house, or a pair of his worn-in shoes. Not worn out or used up; just well used, well known, and well loved. Made of stuff stern enough to last. Just like Jack.

Daniel laughed quietly to himself, trying to imagine how the man would respond to hearing that comparison. Probably not well. It was always hard for him to predict how Jack responded to any given thing.

Giving the bed a little nudge, Daniel said quietly,

"Jack?"

He snapped his fingers above the man's head a few times.

"Jack O'Neill."

The man was still out pretty cold. Daniel nodded to himself.

"Good," he muttered. Daniel stared long and hard at the man, then turned and walked out of the bedroom.

He walked down the hall. The bedroom fell into silence, save for Jack's intermittent snoring.

Somewhere outside, a bird chirped.

Then there were rapid footsteps on the floor, followed by a man screaming at the top of his lungs.

_RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHH!_

Jack rolled over in his sleep again, grumbled, and opened one eye.

Daniel came crashing into him from above, with enough force to snap the legs clean off the jittery old bed frame.

Jack was startled at this awakening, and gave a rather strange cry that went along the lines of _"Waaaaaaaaaaaggggghhhhhhh!"_

A dog started barking hysterically at the noise. Jack instinctively fought back against his ambusher, trying to get an arm around the throat in a death-grip. Daniel shoved blankets into Jack's face to avoid getting strangled, which only worked half-way, and while he kept his arms busy, Jack wrapped his legs around his attacker and forced him to roll over. Struggling with all the stupid blankets, Jack pressed down against the man, hard, and tried to get at his face. Once he'd whipped enough blankets out of the way he saw Daniel and hissed,

"_Danny_-- you-- _moron!_"

"Morning!" he replied cheerfully.

Jack rasped,

_"You want to get yourself killed!"_

"Looks like I'm off to a good start," Daniel quipped. Jack snarled and tried burying Daniel back in the covers, but Daniel fought back, which only made Jack all the more determined. They struggled over who could suffocate the other in the sheets first, and it was a pretty even match until the both of them fell ungracefully off the bed. Fortunately with the frame snapped it was a slightly shorter trip to the floor.

"_Ow!_ You sprained my ankle, you jackass!"

"Serves you right, you freaky little stalker--"

Jack abruptly stopped Daniel's attempt at getting up by grabbing a leg, so that he fell back to the floor.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?"-- _THUMP!_

"To a slightly safer distance," Daniel suggested, trying to kick his foot free. Somehow, he managed to slip through Jack's grip, crawled across the floor, and scamper out the room, with Jack angrily demanding he get the Hell back here.

"DANIEL!" he bellowed down the hall, as he stood in the doorway, glaring, trying to discern where he ran off to. He paused a moment to quietly listen. Birds chirping in the distance and a nearby dog barking its head off. Jack narrowed his eyes and crept out of the bedroom.

Slowly, he peered into each doorway along the hall, and then around the corner. Aah-_ha_. There he was, standing out in the open, leaning against the back of the couch, sipping a mug of coffee. Jack smiled grimly to himself. The man thought he could protect himself with a full mug of coffee, thereby repelling any random attacks. What Dr. Jackson failed to take into account was how very little Jack really did care about coffee stains on his furniture, floor, and elsewhere in the house. He wasn't getting away _that_ easily.

Silently, Jack came charging full-speed, or at least as silently as one can when running across a hardwood floor barefoot. Daniel turned his head to see him and stared as if startled; then he gently tossed aside the empty decoy mug and threw himself over the back of the couch.

The inevitable result was Jack flying into empty space, trying to alter course in mid-flight, and careening over the couch at much too great of speed. He rolled off the couch and ended up on the floor beside it, falling at a fairly painful angle, making this fact known verbally with a very startled yelp and a painful moan.

Daniel gazed down at Jack from his cushy position on the couch for a moment, surveying the damage. Jack groaned and rubbed the back of his head, cursing none-too-mildly about goddamn slippery hardwood floors. Uncurling from his spot on the couch, Daniel slithered down to perch triumphantly on top of the crumpled and defeated form of the Colonel.

Jack paused in his cursings to peer up at the man, who was looking down at him rather smugly.

"You all right?" Daniel asked, and despite his triumph, it was a genuine question.

Jack grunted. "I'll live."

"Okay. That's good."

Jack shifted a little, grit his teeth at the soreness in his side, and said,

"You're a jerk."

"I learn from the best."

"Oh tee-hee."

They were quiet a moment, the only sounds being the same maniac barking.

"It seems Tok'ra is a bit worried," Jack observed.

"Yeah. You'd think she'd be used to stuff like this by now."

"She's only trying to protect her master from rabid archeologist attacks."

"Uh-huh. Because I'm_ real_ dangerous," Daniel drawled.

"You can be when you want to."

Daniel leaned down further on the man, gazing thoughtfully.

"I suppose that's true."

Jack felt the anger slowly drain from his body, gradually being replaced by a new kind of heat, and despite himself, a smile quirked at his lips as he peered up into the innocent blue eyes of his attacker.

"So. Does this make us even?" he asked.

"Hmm. Well. For now, it does," Daniel acquiesced, dropping a casual kiss on Jack's lips.

Jack grinned and leaned forward, intent on laying claim to the man's mouth, but he winced in pain instead and groaned, shifting on the ground.

"Oooh man, Danny, my side really hurts. I think I might have broken a rib."

"Really," Daniel said, his tone completely void of sympathy or belief.

"I'm serious. At least cracked a couple . . . there could be internal bleeding, too."

"Mm-hmm."

"You'd better check it out. I may need a doctor to look at it. You being the nearest doctor."

Daniel gave him a look like he was being a complete and total moron.

". . . of archeology," the man said, same look still on his face.

"Well, yeah. That means you know things about bones, right?"

Dr. Jackson let a smirk slip by; he had to give him credit for that much.

"Yes, when the bones have long been dead and buried for several centuries."

"You might wanna not wait quite that long," Jack said, somehow being adorable and seductive simultaneously. Daniel's eager kiss was a promise that he wouldn't be waiting a moment longer.

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END


End file.
